Israeli Wine and Pearls
by browneyesonly4
Summary: Ziva returns to Israel with a friend to celebrate Chanukah after Eli invites her to the celebration. Will romance bud in the midst of holiday cheer?  AU, taking place..now. Disqualifying any episodes in the near future.
1. Decisions

_A/N: Hello again. I was talking with a friend and we decided to roleplay how Ziva returning to Israel for Chanukah would play out. It gave me a **huge** plot bunny. So here you are. Should be about ten chapters. It's a shorty. Long chapters, though, so watch out. Love, Kat._

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Well, we all know what I do and don't own. I especially wish I owned Caf-POW, but alas, I don't. Oh, and I don't own Santa, either._

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters****  
Friday, November 26, 2010  
****900 Hours**

"Tonyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Abby cried, running at the Senior Field Agent full-throttle. "Merry Christmas!" As she threw her arms around his neck, Ziva wondered briefly whether she was going to strangle him or not.

"Abbs," he murmured, hugging her back, "it's the day after Thanksgiving. You have three more weeks before Christmas, at least."

Jumping away from him, the Goth girl shouted, "So? Christmas can be year-round if desired, and I desire it. So, lay off!" Tony raised his eyebrows at her and smirked. "Shut up, I've only had four Caf-POWs."

He shook his head and sat back down at his desk, looking around in a somewhat mocking awe. "It looks like Santa exploded in here. Is that our case, boss? Did Santa explode?"

"Nope. We don't have a case today," Gibbs said curtly, grabbing a newspaper and his. "Deskwork. I want the files on _my_ desk by sixteen hundred hours."

Without hesitation, all three—technically four—answered him with a resounding, "On it, Boss." Abby added her own, "Yes, Gibbs!" with a salute, relishing in the fact only she would ever be able to do that.

When Gibbs was out of earshot, Tony turned to the Israeli-turned-American and smiled. "What?" she asked, flipping through a file.

"Oh, nothing," he stated, still grinning. "I just, yaknow, was wondering if Liat had said anything about me."

Furrowing her eyebrows, she replied, "No." Under her breath, however, she muttered, "Thank God…"

When Liat and Malachi had left for Israel with Eli, the four had stayed in contact with each other. In Ziva's mind, if her father had been serious about fixing their relationship, she had decided early on that she would make every attempt to help that along. And if that meant making amends with Liat and Malachi, as well, so be it. Either way, regardless of all that happened on the _Damocles_, Malachi reminded Ziva of someone. She could not then—and still could not—put her finger on exactly who that was…Nonetheless, she had tried her best to be receptive and kind to Liat in all emails she sent.

In Liat's first email back to Ziva, however, she had made it painfully clear that she found Tony alluring during her 'visit,' and had proceeded to ask a variety of questions about him. Four emails later Tony, too, was expressing a mutual interest. Somehow, Ziva began playing go-between. Cupid, in a way.

And for some strange reason, unbeknownst to her, she was bothered by it all. For weeks, Malachi and Ziva would commiserate over the obsession the other two had with each other until, finally, she refused to do any more for either of them. Tony had only smiled and accused Ziva of being jealous, even though she knew it was the farthest thing from her mind. (She was fairly certain that Tony knew it, as well, though she said nothing more on the topic.)

The only relief Ziva had found was when her father had invited her to the Chanukah festivities in Israel. She would stay at her father's house, as the only living matriarch of her family, and preside over the celebration. Cooking would be split among herself, Liat, and Malachi over the ten-day stay. It had seemed like a very generous offer, especially after all that she and Eli had been through. Ziva had agreed instantly, without considering the fact that, as an NCIS Agent, former-Mossad-officer-recently-become-American, she may be required to have 'protection' or at least accompaniment.

So that is her goal for today: figuring out who exactly she wished to spend a fourteen-hour-flight-there, ten days of Chanukah, and sixteen-hours-back with.

As she glanced around the office, she only saw two options: McGee or Tony. While McGee was probably a very nice person to travel with, he seemed as somewhat of a bore, and along with the fact he had once distinctly told her that he hated flying, Ziva was fairly certain she could cross him off the list. That left Tony, and though the thought of bringing him to a family gathering in her homeland was dreadful, she couldn't suppress the butterflies in her stomach.

Letting out a sigh, she decided that she would work now and figure out how to reserve vacation time later.

* * *

**Bullpen  
****Friday, November 26, 2010  
****1400 Hours**

"Dum-dah-dum-pum-dah-ditty-dum-pum…" Tony hummed to the tune of _The Little Drummer Boy_. He had been singing and thrumming Christmas carols all day in quick succession, partly because he saw how it got under Miss Ziva Davíd's skin and he enjoyed it, and partly because he couldn't get them out of his head. Finally, he was able to think of something other than Christmas—although it was difficult, what with being surrounded by fake snow, Christmas lights, and holly—and pulled a case write-up almost entirely out of his ass.

_Okay, most of it was out of my ass, but so what,_ he thought to himself, stapling the sheets together. After sticking them in the case-folder, he stood, walked over to Gibbs' desk and set them on the neat surface. "Guess who's done with their cases? Ooh yeah, that would be me. _Very_ Special Anthony DiNozzo, completely finished." Adding a few 'last words', Tony struts through the bullpen calling, "Finito, fertig, terminado—D-O-N-E, _done_!"

"Yes, Tony, we get it," Ziva snaps, typing away at her keyboard. "Now, will you shut up so that _we_ may finish?"

"Yeah, I mean, I _guess_ I could…" Tony grins, and then crosses to sit on the edge of her desk. "But why would I wanna do _that?_"

"Because you want me to spare your life." She cast him a deadly glare, but he was unaffected.

Instead, an even wider smile spread across his face. "Go ahead. Make my day, Ziva." She glanced at him and continued to work, saying nothing more. "So, you never answered me earlier."

"About what?"

"Is that a touch of moodiness I hear, Probie?" Tony teased, playing with a stray curl. She swatted his hand away and he purred. "Mm, someone's a grouchy tiger today."

"First of all," Ziva loudly retorted, "No, I am not grouchy. Second of all, I did answer your question; no, Liat has not said anything more about you to me, nor have I to her. I told you, Tony, I am not going to do this anymore. I have left you both to your own devices. If she has not contacted you, that is not my problem and you should be man enough to accept the fact that maybe, just maybe, a woman does not find you appealing!"

Tony had never really been one to show his emotions around Ziva, especially when it came to their silly banter in the office, but he had to admit that this one stung a bit more than usual. The force of her words left a mark, and he even jumped slightly when she spoke them. He hoped that his face didn't reveal too much of what he felt, but even so, he felt the need to rationalize—to himself—what he _was_ feeling.

Ziva was a constant at NCIS. When Ziva wasn't there, things weren't right. He learned that too late, soon after he killed her boyfriend in self-defense on the floor of her apartment living room. He felt guilty over that more often than not, but she had seemingly gotten over it fast enough, so he usually was able to keep himself from dwelling on it. There was more to his guilt, however, beginning with Gibbs leaving her in Israel and ending with seeing her battered, sitting in front of him, in Somalia. Obviously, his feelings for her were somewhere between friends and more-than-friends, but he knew deep down that they were both keeping it as professional as they could manage.

However, there were days like these when Tony didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to just let her stew in fury about the fact he was—in complete repartee, of course—interested in Mossad's Ziva-Replacement? Or was his duty as her partner more of a personal note? When thinking about Ziva, Tony commonly returned to his old adage that she was a ninja, and while he still agreed, he couldn't help but notice that she had changed over the five years of working with (and then for) NCIS.

Her instincts were quick, but her tongue was quicker—and not just with kissing. A swift monologue could leave him clutching at his heart (figuratively speaking) for the rest of the day. Her words could cut like a knife, but did she know what she did to him? Did she know what just a look at her in the morning, stepping out of the elevator, did to the rest of his day? And then, could she tell that she hurt him?

Regardless of whether she could tell or not, Tony kept his hurt ego to himself. The last thing he needed was to be shot down while he was unarmed.

* * *

**Bullpen  
****Friday, November 26, 2010  
****1600 Hours**

"All three case-files, on my desk," Gibbs stated, smiling over his cup of coffee. "Good work. You're free to go."

Ziva took this time to hover around her desk, slowly packing her phone, badge, and keys in the lambskin purse she pulled from under her desk. To any random person walking the corridors of NCIS Headquarters, it would appear as though she were simply preparing for the drive home, but it simply was not that. In fact, it was much more than that.

She was attempting to work up enough courage to tell Gibbs about Chanukah, and found that she was failing miserably. Finally, the older man walked up to her desk and asked her, point-blank, what was on her mind.

Stumbling on the words, she began, "My father invited me to Chanukah…"

"Yeah?" Gibbs said. "And?"

Ziva thought for a moment before saying, "I accepted." He nodded, catching her off guard. "I would need at least twelve days of vacation."

"Take that up with Pamela. She's taking care of vacations right now."

"But you are—"

Gibbs nodded then interrupted, "I know what I am. Check with Pamela. It's alright by me as long as you've got time."

Anyone else would have taken that as a signal to leave. Tony would have said, 'Thanks, Boss, have a good one.' McGee would have said, 'Thanks, Gibbs,' and simply left. But Ziva was rooted to her spot, wringing her fingers.

"Something else on your mind, Davíd?"

She nodded 'yes.' _Much is on my mind…_ "As an NCIS agent, and as I am not sure I have personal security in Israel anymore since I am newly American—"

"Yup. Anyone you got in mind?" Stunned, Ziva opened her mouth to speak but stopped short. Her two options had started for the stairs. If she wanted her prospective travel partner to know about the trip—and to give him a chance to bow out—she would have to act quickly.

"Well, it would most likely have to be someone from this team." Gibbs gestured for her to continue. "Which means either McGee or Tony."

From a distance, Ziva heard the latter bid the former farewell and the door clicked between them. Soon enough, Tony was back at his desk, also collecting his belongings for the evening.

"You could take Muh-Gee," Gibbs suggested. "Good agent, never done anything against your family…" Tony snorted behind him and Ziva couldn't help but give him a small smirk.

She bowed her head and played with a loose string on her purse. "I…was considering it. But, Gibbs, he hates to fly. And, besides which, Abby said he was such a bore in Mexico." A lengthy chain of snorting ensued before Tony let out a rough cackle, and then a cough to cover it. "That leaves…"

"Duh-Nozzo."

The laughter quickly ended and a hasty "Yeah, Boss?" soon followed. Ziva glanced between the two men before explaining the situation to Tony. When she was finished, he blinked several times and nodded. "Sure."

"We leave Dulles at five-twenty-one Monday afternoon." Tony was obviously suppressing a guffaw of shock but Ziva murmured, "Is that a problem?" and swiftly shut him up. "Anyway, the weather will be in the low- to mid-eighties for Chanukah this year, and therefore, pack accordingly."

"Are you sure you wan—"

"I am sure," Ziva stated firmly, looking Tony in the eye. "Oh, and dinner is always dressy-casual." At his quizzical stare, she elaborated that he should pack something at least a little better than usual. "A suit would be overreaching," she added. He nodded and finished gathering things. They walked to the parking lot together when he was ready to leave.

"Why do you want me to go?"

Ziva thought for a moment before saying, "I have not been to my house in a year and a half. I may need someone to have my back, and you are that someone."

"I see," Tony murmured, unlocking his car. "Have a good night, Zeev. See you tomorrow."

"Yes, yes you shall. Good night." Ziva got in her own car, started it, and drove away, trying to ignore the massive weight that had been lifted off of her chest and replaced instead by thousands of butterfly wings pulsing within their cage.

-break-

**Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's Bedroom  
****His Apartment  
****Friday, November 26, 2010  
****2200 Hours**

Packing for Israel proved to be more difficult than Tony could have ever imagined, but he eventually got the job done, at least by his standards. One suitcase, a carry-on, and a toiletry bag, all filled to the brim. Of course, Ziva had helped him, if only through electronic means. Picture texts to her had been replied to with a simple 'yes' or 'no', and requests for suggestions met a sturdy 'blue' or 'green'.

She did, however, think that a red pullover sweater would be a horrible idea, and said so in as many words.

When Tony arrived at Headquarters the next morning, he felt like stealing away to Autopsy and catching some shut-eye on one of the tables. Again, they were case-less and therefore stuck with more desk-work. The lack of an investigation did, however, grant him more opportunity to ask Ziva questions about the trip, such as 'What do we eat?'

She had simply rolled her eyes and told him that it would be taken care of.

When confronted with the topic of gifts, however, her eyes got very wide and sparkled, much like a child's.

"Well, Tony," she began, crossing over to him, "Chanukah lasts for eight days. Some families choose to give a small gift each night; others give one large gift at the beginning or end. And then there are a few who choose to focus more on charity."

He nodded once and then winced. "Does that mean I have to buy gifts for everyone? Like, your dad?"

Ziva laughed. "You do not have to, but if you are trying to win him over, I would suggest it. Or, give to charity. Father would respect you for doing so, either way you choose." After a moment of comfortable silence, she added, "I am going shopping for gifts tonight. You are welcome to join me, if you wish."

Tony considered this for what seemed like hours. He could go and ask her for input about gifts for Eli, Ben-Gidon, and Liat (not that he was really too keen on her to begin with, but it would get Ziva going and that was what he strived for most days). But the one downside to going with her is that he wouldn't be able to buy _her_ gifts. So he looked up at her and said, "Oh, no, I see what you're doing. You're trying to figure out what I'm getting you."

"I am doing no such thing. Purchasing Chanukah gifts can be intimidating…I was simply trying to help," Ziva replied, smiling. "If you wish to shop alone, feel free to. Call me if you need any help."

But he knew he wouldn't. He knew exactly what he was going to give her, for each of the eight days. And the best would be the eighth gift, by far.

Tony couldn't resist the excitement growing within him. He had a gut feeling that this vacation would prove to be both informative (about Ziva's background) _and_ interesting.

And who wouldn't love to spend the holidays in beautiful sunshine?

* * *

**Tel Aviv, Israel  
****Tuesday, November 30, 2010  
****1450 Hours**

After a nine hour flight on Monday, a three-hour layover in Frankfurt that nearly made them miss the conjoining what-seemed-like-five-hour flight, Tony and Ziva arrived safely in Tel Aviv Yafo airport. Welcomed by a limousine, they were quickly shuttled to her house.

The first thing that Tony noticed was the marked difference between the looming stucco (what seemed like a) mansion and the Mossad 'headquarters'. There were a few trees framing the cast-iron framed windows and a number of upstairs balconies. While there were similarities, he could make out a stark comparison that hit him harder than the obvious physical differences: the emotional difference. There was a looser, more relaxed feeling. It was clear that this was a _home_, rather than a house.

Even Ziva seemed different here. She was all smiley and full of anticipation, though the flight had taken a toll on her (made apparent by slight puffiness under her eyes and even slighter frizzy bed-head). Tony could tell she was excited to be back, like a child on Christmas morning. He laughed, considering the irony; perhaps he should change the scenario to 'like a child on the first night of Chanukah'.

"Excited?" he murmured, bumping elbows with her gently. She simply beamed at him and nodded, rolling her luggage up to the door as soon as the 'chauffer' hefted it up out of the trunk. "You look it."

Ziva dug a key out of her pocket and, after struggling to balance her carry-on bag against the handle of her suitcase, Tony slung the strap over his shoulder, allowing her to unlock the front door. Although the key worked, and she swung the door open, she rang the doorbell. He assumed this was just to be polite, since he technically wasn't family, nor was he very well accepted _by_ the family.

"Father? We are here," Ziva called into the house, stepping over the threshold and dragging her suitcase behind her. Beckoning Tony to follow, she slipped her shoes off and padded over to the stairs. "Father?"

Eli's white-clad form swept into the room from what appeared to be the kitchen and opened his arms wide to hug his daughter. "Ah, Zee-vah, I have missed you."

"As I have missed you," she mumbled into his shoulder, returning the hug with just as much gusto.

"I see you have brought a friend? Or is this a business call, Mr. DiNozzo?" Eli thrust out a hand and Tony shook it hesitantly, both smiling at the other.

"No, no," Tony murmured, shaking his head, "strictly leisure, Director Davíd."

Throwing his head back with a laugh, the older man cried, "If it is not work-related, call me Eli! It is Chanukah and you are here with my daughter. It is the least I can offer you."

The senior field agent merely said, "Well, Eli, call me Tony."

For hours, the three sat in the living room talking, Ziva with a glass of apricot wine while Tony and Eli sipped on barley malt beer, discussing matters spanning the sands of the desert to the metal used in the Menorah now set on the side-table.

Things grew very interesting when Liat and Malachi arrived, starting with the overstuffed duffel-bag that the former had thrown across her back.

"Liat, hello," Eli greeted, gesturing for her to sit. "And Malachi. Come sit, sit."

Malachi nodded, smiling and extending a girly hand (Tony noticed) toward Ziva, who grasped it gingerly and gave it a soft squeeze. "Ziva," he said, bowing his head and finishing his statement in a slew of Hebrew syllables. She returned them graciously, but not without casting an unhidden glance at Tony. "And Special Agent DiNozzo, of course." Malachi shook Tony's hand as well, almost firmer than necessary. The latter didn't bother asking him to call him 'Tony'.

Liat, on the other hand, tossed her bag aside as though it held mere feathers and was at Tony's side in a flash. "Lovely to see you again. Not another case, I hope?"

"No, no," Tony reassured, peeling his gaze away from Liat's mysterious eyes. "I'm here with Ziva." He didn't miss the disappointment that flickered briefly on her features. Subconsciously, he took a step toward the woman in question, who mirrored the movement instinctively.

Eli took notice of this, and smiled to himself, letting out a low chuckle. "Malachi, I just received a gift of the most wonderful cigars. Join me for one in my study. And you, too, Tony, if you wish?" Tony did, however, decline, remembering the sensitivity of his lungs ever since his tango with numonic plague a little less than six years prior. "Well, they are not for everyone, as they say, yes?"

Tony and Ziva nodded, and then were left alone with Liat, who shortly after the exit of Malachi and Eli went upstairs to unpack.

"So this is your house?" Ziva's senior asked, striding over to the somewhat out-of-place fireplace.

"This is not my house anymore," she murmured, joining him. "I live in America now. But yes, this is where I grew up."

Tony bowed his head and examined a picture that looked older than the others. "Who's this?"

She took one look at the photograph and stated matter-of-factly, "My mother."

"Oh."

They didn't discuss it for the rest of the evening, though they had little time to consider it. Both showered (separately, of course), during which Tony was preoccupied with running through all of the Jewish prayers he'd taught himself over the past year "in case something like this would ever happen" in his head. Ziva was too exhilarated by being 'home' again (along with being in charge of the blessings for dinner) to think of the awkward silence that had consumed the space between them.

Over dessert and coffee and wine, Tony noticed that Ziva appeared to be tired and decided to ask about something he had forgotten to discuss with her earlier. "So, Eli, what are the sleeping arrangements tonight? I should have asked earlier, but it totally slipped my mind."

The man looked between the two NCIS agents several times before shrugging and saying, "I should have thought about it more…Unfortunately, I will not have access to the guest room for the third day of Chanukah. Ziva's Aunt Lucy and Uncle Avraham are arriving tonight, and staying until late Friday evening." The breath caught in Tony's throat, preventing any response. "I hope this will not be a problem…"

Ziva shook her head and quickly spoke up. "No, Father. We will work it out."

Thankfully, no one saw Tony's hand graze Ziva's, but everyone felt the change in energy pulsing through the room.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
****2300 Hours  
****Tuesday, November 30, 2010**

"So, how exactly is this going to work?" Tony had finally worked up enough courage to ask, and enough common sense to know what _not_ to ask. Which was, naturally, 'Who's getting the bed, and who's getting the couch, and what are we going to tell Abby and McGee?' No more rendezvous like Paris. Or at least none that would be leaked throughout NCIS Headquarters.

Ziva thought for a moment before blatantly saying, "I will take the chaise lounge, and you can have the bed."

"No," Tony refused. "It's your room, and your house. You should sleep in your bed." What he wanted to say would only set her off, and that was, 'But I can sleep there, too. I wouldn't have problems with that.' He refrained.

An eyebrow lifted on her forehead, creasing the skin slightly. "Your back is horrible."

"Pardon?"

"Sleeping on the couch will only hurt your back. Same goes for the floor."

Tony took the opportunity that rose at that moment to sit on the bed next to her. "We're both adults. Why not just sleep together?" He hoped that the last sentence didn't sound too suggestive, because that was the last thing on his mind.

"We _are_ both adults," Ziva agreed, and then added an ever open-ended 'but' to the end.

"But…?"

"But, Tony, my bed was made for a single teenager. Not two adults." A small pout pulled the corner of her mouth down and it took every ounce of Tony's emotional strength to not swoop down and kiss her good night. Why he was having these feelings for her—again—was beyond him, but he was determined not to fall prey to them.

After she opened each Chanukah gift, however, she might not be able to resist. And that was perfectly fine with him.

So he sat on the chaise lounge and pulled off a sock.

* * *

_A/N: Mm. One chapter down, yada yada.  
**Note:** I have only responded to one review on the latest chapter of Handle With Care. This is for two reasons; one, my computer won't let me ... and two, I'm giving a lengthy explanation next chapter. A teaser? Everyone has their own belief systems, preferences, etc. Everyone starts at the bottom eventually. This includes Ziva and Tony. (/teaser)_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I don't own Tony's sock._


	2. Day One

_A/N: Hello again... This one kinda kicked my butt a bit. Unfortunately, my goal of having a new chapter for each day of Chanukah is impossible to complete (now that I have thought about it a little more) so I hope none of you get confused when you have Day 2 of Chanukah on Friday... =/ I have a lot (and I mean a **lot**) of projects and homework and stuff that's due because it's getting toward the end of the semester and therefore I can't devote as much time to writing. You will get another chapter eventually...I just hope this will tide you over until then._

**_Disclaimer_**_: I don't own Shuk Ha'Carmel Marketplace. It sounds like an amazing place to go though..._**

* * *

****700 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 1, 2010**

The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom

The sun shone into Ziva's bedroom window the next morning with such bright rays that staying in bed for much longer was impossible. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and padded into her bathroom, turning the water on for her shower while attempting to make as little noise as possible. Waking Tony was at the bottom of her list.

This conscious mindset set _around _Tony only doomed Ziva's mind to consider the more intimate thoughts she held for him but, on a regular basis, ignored or buried. The first to hit her was the very first time she stepped foot on NCIS floors. Or, at least, in the bullpen. Tony had been saying something dirty…staring off into outer space, and she had asked if she was intruding on something private. He had jumped to make it appear as though he had been participating in phone sex, but Ziva hadn't been fooled. No federal agent (or anyone in government, really) would engage in phone sex off of their desk phone at work. Tony may have appeared to be a bit dense, but she had been able to tell upon meeting him and talking to him for a bit that he was nothing of the sort.

She let out a soft chuckle, stepping into the shower and remembering how she had sat in (what she learned to be was) McGee's desk-chair and flirted with him. At the time, she had been testing the waters, trying to see what he was like. But looking back on it, it was flirting. There had been a chemistry that she found very rarely, especially with Mossad. The majority of her 'romances' were nothing more than fleeting trysts, either because they were the result of a shady undercover assignment or because they were simply that. Trysts. Rendezvouses that would never lead to anything more.

But Tony…there had been something about him that had captured Ziva's attention soon after they met, especially after their charade as assassins, and even more so after the summer nights they had spent together.

Running a loofa sponge over her elbows and knees, she also passed her palm over her shin and grimaced at how prickly they were. She realized too late that she hadn't brought a razor into the bathroom with her, and that they were still stashed in her suitcase.

Letting out a harrumph, Ziva left the shower, draped a plush towel around her waist, and tiptoed into her bedroom. Thankfully, Tony was nowhere to be seen and she assumed he had gone downstairs to eat breakfast. She bent over her suitcase and dug around for the pink _Venus_ razor she had packed specifically for this vacation.

Ziva froze when she heard a soft chuckle behind her. "Love the view," Tony murmured. She turned to glare at him and saw that he was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Her partner's eyes were sparkling like blue diamonds. "Sorry. I'll leave you to find whatever you're looking for in peace."

"I was showering," Ziva said, her voice colder than she had intended. She tried to apologize with a small smile.

Tony nodded, a grin forming on his lips. "I can see that. You're dripping soap on the carpet, by the way," he told her, gesturing toward the lush beige beneath her.

She turned and scurried back into the bathroom, finishing her shower in less than fifteen minutes. After blow-drying her hair and scrunching it with a hefty amount of mousse, she emerged in a velvet bathrobe she had found in a drawer in the bathroom.

"Well, aren't we feeling a bit more awake," Tony said, crossing the room while trying to pull on his sock. He let his eyes visibly graze over her form, then sat on the chaise lounge, shoving aside a pillow. "Wish I could say the same for myself," he managed to get out before Liat barged in through the door. _Fabulous_, the partners thought in tandem, turning their attention to the cargo-pants-and-tank-top clad ninja. Trying not to stare at Ziva, but also trying not to shower Liat with too much attention, Tony simply bade her a 'Good Morning' and left the room with his slippers tightly grasped in his hands.

He wanted to see what breakfast at the Davíd Manor were like.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Kitchen  
****1000 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 1, 2010**

Over a large spread of sliced vegetables, goat-milk yoghurt, fruit, scrambled eggs, and toast, Tony soon realized that he may in fact be forced to gain several pounds over the course of Chanukah, especially if every morning began this way. After seeing what Dinner there would be like, he assumed (and rightfully so) that the Davíd family enjoyed a wide variety of foods, and never remained hungry for long. The only part of breakfast that Tony missed was the maple-cured bacon he had grown fond of in the United States, but after thinking about it for a while, he decided that he had eaten enough anyway and wouldn't have had room for it even if they'd _had_ it.

Even the coffee was delicious, which meant that the rest of the day would surely go well. The only thing he wasn't sure of was how to deflect Liat's unwanted attention. Why she was hitting on him so heavily _now_ compared to when they first met was beyond Tony, and he was hard-pressed (by himself) to find out as soon as possible. Preventing Ziva from killing Liat was one of the reasons, the other being that he simply didn't care for Liat anymore.

The initial spark of intrigue had been the driving force behind Tony's interest in her. That and the fact she had reminded him of someone he seemed to know. If only he could figure out who. It was bugging him and, usually, he just ignored things like that. Pushed it back of his mind and focused on what was truly important—usually, a case.

But this was so much different. When he looked at Liat he _knew_ there was someone who she was exactly like except for a few outlying features, such as her nose or the distinct pout to her lips. The intensity in her eyes was what drove him, because he _knew_ someone with that same, exact intensity. It pushed him closer and closer to insanity each day.

At that moment, Ziva swept into the room and reached over his shoulder for a piece of toast. After pouring herself a cup of hot water and steeping a chai teabag in the mug, she took a seat at the granite island and extracted the newspaper from Tony's hands. It wasn't as though he could read it anyway, what with having to start at the right of the page and move left (along with the pesky Hebrew alphabet), but it still niggled at him that she hadn't considered asking for it.

Tony had half a mind to reprimand her and opened his mouth to do so, but she turned to him and said rather plainly, "Oh, Tony, it is not as though you could have read it anyway. But if you insist…" Ziva hopped off of her chair and stood in front of him. For some reason (which he could not put his finger on), the closeness of her body to his made Tony's heart beat a bit faster. He barely heard her when she murmured, "Tony, may I please read the newspaper, if you are finished with it?"

Dumbfounded, he nodded. What bothered him wasn't the fact Ziva had somehow known what he was going to ask her, but instead the fact he still had a racing heart even after she had returned to her seat.

_Crap._

"_Chag Samaech_, Father," she greeted Eli, breaking Tony out of his daze. "Day number one."

The older man smiled warmly and sipped at his orange juice. "Yes, Daughter, and _Chag Samaech_ to you as well. Are you ready to cook the feast of this evening?"

Ziva thought for a moment before telling him, "Yes. Do I need to go shopping?" Eli shook his head. "I think I should take Tony to the bazaar, just so he can see it."

"Oh, Zeev," Tony muttered, "you don't have to. I'm fine here…"

Liat smirked. "If you have shopping to do, I can keep him company." Through the double-French door strode Malachi, who received a disgruntled glare from the young Israeli. "Sleep well?"

He nodded, grabbing a plate and scooping a rather large helping of Israeli Vegetable Salad onto it. "Yes, Liat, I did." Turning to Eli, Malachi smiled. "Chag Samaech and good morning, Director."

"Ah, Malachi," Eli declared, pouring himself another glass of juice. "I was wondering if you would accompany me to the office. I forgot my briefcase there yesterday and I am afraid I will need it this week." Malachi nodded and leant down to whisper something in Ziva's ear. A faint blush rose in her cheeks and she flipped her hair over her right shoulder in an attempt to hide it from Tony.

This was an impossible feat, and Tony laughed inwardly at the fact she actually thought he wouldn't notice.

"So," Tony began, nudging her upper arm with his elbow, "What're you making tonight? Battered beetles with lentils and mealworms?" He crinkled his nose to show he was joking, but Liat bounded over and appeared as though she was ready to slap him, causing him to step away from her. "Just kidding…"

She wasn't convinced, however, and showed as much by crossing her arms and glaring. "Bugs are not kosher, and neither are worms."

Tony glanced between Ziva and Liat, noting the thick tension that had settled over both women.

Very slowly (and venomously, Tony also noted), Ziva said, "Liat, you know that Father and I do not keep kosher."

"Since when does the Director _not_ keep kosher? I believe that was _your_ tradition, Ziva, not his." A smirk formed on Liat's lips, making it obvious she thought she had won.

"You may keep kosher, but the closest we come to it is separating cooking pans between dairy and meat," Ziva explained. "Look around. There are two refrigerators, two freezers, to separate ovens, two separate sinks, two sets of knives, and—" She stood and gestured to the rest of the kitchen, "—two of everything."

"What is your point, Ziva?" Liat spat.

Tony was growing very uncomfortable with being stuck in the crossfire and again took a step backward, only stopping when Ziva gripped his wrist, gluing him to the spot. _Please, God, I know I don't pray often, but please let me not get killed today…_

His partner's eyes flashed brilliantly (but dangerously) as she hissed, "If you do not wish to eat my cooking, you are more than welcome _to leave_."

Liat took the opportunity that arose to let out a laugh, albeit a bitchy one. Ziva, on the other hand, muttered under her breath something he suspected was vulgar. This caused her replacement to force herself in front of Tony, her backside just grazing where normally Tony wouldn't mind (but currently feared for his life too much to react in any way).

Her proximity to Ziva mixed with the dangerous look on both of their faces made him want to run but the possibility of a fight between them kept him rooted to the tile he was standing on. And he couldn't push from the recesses of his brain the worry he held that Liat would attack Ziva, potentially hurting her in the process. He remained.

"Maybe, Ziva, I will." Liat flounced from the room and left both Ziva and Tony staring after her.

He turned and eyed her cautiously. Her eyes were narrowed but you could see they were welling up with tears of a more angry nature. Her lips were pressed into a tight, thin line and her brow was furrowed. "You okay?" Tony asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded but still stared at the doorway. After a while she hissed '_Golem_' and turned back to her tea.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****1400 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 1, 2010**

Ziva was livid, furious beyond belief, but she refused to give Liat the pleasure of knowing it. Instead, she focused on dusting and cleaning the house for the gathering that evening. She froze when she felt someone in the room besides her.

"Look," she began, "I am sorry about earlier, but please let us be civilized adults and not fight? It _is_ Chanukah, after all." She heard a man's chuckle and turned her head minimally to look over her shoulder. When she saw it was only Malachi, she relaxed and let a smile form on her features. "I thought you had gone into town with my father." The unasked question of 'Where is he now?' still rang in the air.

"He is outside discussing flowers with your aunt and uncle. He will be in soon," Malachi explained, drawing nearer to her. "There is something I have been meaning to talk to you about, _Zee_-vah." Only one other person pronounced her name quite like that. Tony. But only when he was serious about something. Ziva bristled slightly from his tone but said nothing, allowing him to continue. "Please, let us sit…"

She acquiesced to his suggestion and perched herself on the edge of a plush cushion lying on the floor beside the coffee table, propping an elbow on the glass to hold herself up (and to enable her to still defend herself if need-be).

"_Zee_-vah," he said as a soft whisper, almost as though he were reading poetry. "I would like to begin by saying we miss you very much in Mossad, and while we remain in contact with the occasional e-mail or phone call, the headquarters is not the same without your bright and beautiful eyes each morning." Ziva merely raised her eyebrows, a gesture for him to continue. "Your father has even mentioned the void your absence has left behind."

She smirked. "Oh, but Liat is my replacement, Malachi. You needn't miss me too much."

"Ah. So your father was right." Malachi let out a bark of laughter and studied the former-Israeli with humor in his eyes when she stared at him in confusion. "The Director thought perhaps you would take it that way."

Ziva rolled her eyes and looked away, focusing on the stark contrast the white lilies made with the blue chrysanthemums instead of meeting his piercing gaze. "Did he?"

"Yes, _Zee_-vah." Malachi paused, extending a hand and placing it above her elbow. A counterattack if he tried anything would be futile now, she knew, and she resented him for taking that power away from her. A rising sense of distrust (mostly out of suspicion) kept her ill at ease while he said, "We all miss you, and I feel as though it is my fault you are gone."

"Why?" she asked, eyeing the small frown easing its way onto his tanned features. "You fought the battle against me joining NCIS. How would my becoming an agent be any of your fault?"

Her former partner bowed his head and released a dramatic sigh. "Because I left you in Somalia to die."

It took seconds for Ziva to be on her feet and walking away from him, spluttering, "No, we are not discussing that on the first day of Chanukah. I refuse. No."

He gaited over to her and gripped her upper arms. "_Zee_-vah, I am so sorry. I should not have abandoned you in Somalia. All that happened on the _Damocles_ … that was my fault. I should not have—" Ziva's hand made contact with his cheek sooner than he could finish his sentence, sending the echo of flesh-on-flesh through the parlor. He said nothing more and released his hold on Ziva's arms, allowing her to storm from the room and up the stairs to her bedroom.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
****1500 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 1, 2010**

Tony sat in awe on the edge of Ziva's bed as the girl in question furiously paced back and forth, muttering lengths of Hebrew under her breath and emitting angry sighs here and there. Her eyebrows were creased so intensely that he was worried they would leave deep ridges in her forehead, along with his fear that she would end up killing him if he in the least suggested she calm down. He wanted to consol her but was unsure of how, because anyway he diced it, he would end up missing an appendage.

Finally, he worked up the nerve to stand and stop her mid-stride. "Ziva," Tony murmured, staring down at her. He waited until she had met his gaze before continuing, "Tell me what's wrong?"

All he got was a pissed-off "No." She tried to walk around him but he stopped her by stepping to the left, blocking her path. "Move."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," he told her firmly. "I've only seen you like this once; when you were framed and the FBI was after you." Ziva shrugged, which didn't annoy him half as much as the fact she wouldn't confide in him. "I was there for you then, and I'm there for you now."

After taking a few deep breaths, she gestured toward the bed and crossed the room to hop up on it and cross her legs Indian-style. Tony joined her, pulling one leg up to balance his body. Slowly, Ziva began to explain everything that had transgressed between Malachi and herself, playing with a loose string that hung lifelessly from the blanket she was sitting on.

Tony didn't know what to say, so he exhaled through his lips and ran an unsure hand through his hair, setting it rather unkempt-looking. "Well, Zeev, I guess it's safe to say dinner's gonna be a toss-up, huh?" When she glared at him, he quickly covered with, "But I've got your back, so you don't have to worry."

Ziva chuckled bitterly and said in the most matter-of-fact way she could, "Unfortunately, Tony, you would have little chance going up against five Mossad officers."

"Five?" he asked, counting through the current number of house guests in his mind. "But the only ones here are Liat and Malachi."

She shook her head. "Tonight we are having a party, Tony. Did I not tell you? My father's closest and most respected employees are invited." He raised an eyebrow at her. "In the past," she explained, "that would mean myself, Malachi, Ari, and Michael. This year, there are replacements. Liat is one of them, and then three other men."

_Oh dear._ "Well," he joked, "I suppose that means I'd better be on my best behavior."

There was a pregnant pause before Ziva replied, "Only if you want to return to America alive."

She left the room before Tony could ask if she was kidding or not. By the time he had followed her downstairs, she was preoccupied with setting out dishes with her aunt and therefore couldn't answer questions anyway. He hovered by the baby grand piano in the corner until finally, she looked up and suggested they go to the market.

Uncertain of what else he would do, he agreed.

* * *

**Shuk Ha'Carmel (Market)  
****1700 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 1, 2010**

"When exactly are we supposed to be back?" Tony asked, almost cut off by the heckling of a nearby vendor. "I mean, this the third market we've been to. Isn't that kind of … overkill?" He shifted the two bags he carried in his left hand while trying to balance the heavy mesh tote he held in the crook of his right arm.

"We need food for the week," Ziva told him bluntly, smiling at a little girl in another booth. "We had might as well buy it now to save time later."

Tony couldn't argue with that and followed her. He envied the fact that as a woman, she wasn't expected to carry the grocery bags. That was his work. He also realized how much appreciation he held for American stores like Wegmans and Wal*Mart. _What I would do for a shopping cart right now…_

A thought struck him. "Hey, Zeev, you know what's really weird?" She gave him a noncommittal 'Hm?' but nothing more. "The fact that right now—" He glanced at his watch, almost dropping the groceries. "—it's only around ten in the morning in D.C.?"

Ziva nodded. "Yes. That is why, when I was doing undercover work shortly after Director Shep—Hmm, shortly after our team was separated…I rarely called." This earned her a perplexed look from Tony. "Well, be realistic, Tony."

"I don't follow," he murmured, wincing as part of the bag pinched his arm. She rolled her eyes and took the bag from him. "Thanks."

Ignoring him, Ziva elaborated. "If I woke up at seven in the morning, it was midnight in Washington. If, for some reason, I was up at one or two, you would be eating dinner. It just was not considerate, any way I looked at it." She stopped at a small booth selling something that looked like gold (but Tony couldn't tell what it was) before smiling at the vendor and greeting him in Hebrew. She looked at the pieces lying in their blue, velvet boxes before paying him and stashing the consequent box in her purse. She thanked him and walked onward.

He thought she was finished, but that was not so. "So I did not call," she murmured, pausing mid-step and standing on tip-toe to look over a tall man in front of her. "We do need corn flour," she said, almost as though it was to herself.

"I was all over the place, not just in one time zone. That being said," Tony stated, pushing aside her statement about flour, "I would've felt bad calling _you_ in the middle of the night." Ziva appeared to be more interested in flour (although that was simply not the case) and began to push through the crowds in her determination. "Hey, Zeev, where you going? Agh!"

* * *

**The Davíd House, Kitchen  
****1850 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 1, 2010**

After separating every food group and washing all vegetables so that they were certifiably bug- and dirt-free, Ziva and Tony began the harrowing task of cooking the foods for the party. Tony had not been informed that he would be cooking that evening, nor was he altogether pleased about it, but he figured that if he was considered 'sidekick' to Ziva, not too much could go wrong.

The only problem he was having was keeping track of which place he was supposed to find meat. He had opened the refrigerator to grab an ingredient for Ziva (first the lamb for hashwe and then chicken for a curry dish, followed by several others) and nearly every time had to open both doors because he had forgotten behind which door was which category: dairy or meat. A few times he had even come close to cursing the entire practice, but thought better of it.

Liat had been in the next room, or somewhere in the house, and he hadn't wanted to die so soon. Not before at least giving Ziva her gift. So now he stood there, waiting for his partner to dictate to him what he should be doing.

"Ah, Ziva," Eli sighed, walking into the room. "Aunt Lucy wants to see you." Ziva's eyes opened widely and she glanced at the pan that held slowly heating olive oil. "Is that a problem, daughter? Are you in the middle of something?"

She shook her head and looked at Tony, who perked up immediately. "Need me to take over for a sec?"

Ziva explained to him how to toast the pine nuts and how imperative it was that he not burn them. She stressed this fact several times before untying her apron and pressing it into his abdomen. She did take a moment, however, to lean up and whisper, "She probably thinks we are a couple. I will cover for us."

While she was gone, Tony succeeded in not only _not_ burning the pine nuts, but also in finding in the recipe what he was supposed to do with them once they were golden brown. He turned off the heat, as advised by the recipe, and waited a few minutes for them to cool. He then—very carefully, as to not get lamb on the pan or the wooden spoon—emptied the pan into the meat mixture and stirred them in with its respective spoon. Proud of himself, he referred to the picture on the recipe and found an appropriate dish, transferring the contents of the pan into it and decorating it with a sprig of parsley.

The look on Ziva's face when she returned to see the hashwi completed and (if Tony could say so himself) beautifully plated was worth the stress of cooking on his own. He had little experience with cooking and had been very nervous (since the last time he'd tried to make anything he'd set the stove on fire…). However, when she hugged him in thanks, he had simply beamed.

"It looks delicious," she told him, taking a bit of the hashwi onto a plastic spoon and trying it. "Mm…Good job, Tony. I am proud of you."

Fighting off the flush rising in his face, Tony smirked down at her. "Well," he said cockily, "you know how we DiNozzos roll." He remembered the reason she had left the kitchen in the first place and asked, "How's Aunt Lucy?" Stealing the spoon from Ziva, he also tried it. Not being one for lamb, he quickly swallowed, tuning into what she was saying.

"It is much worse than I thought," she told him, holding back laughter at his facial expression. "She thought—and still is convinced—that we are engaged."

"En-what?" Tony blurted, setting the spoon down rather harder than he needed to. The end broke off and he was left with a jagged handle. He gingerly placed both of the broken pieces in the trash can for meat and then turned back to his brown-haired partner. "How did we come off as engaged?"

Ziva shrugged. "I do not know, but hopefully she will not push us tonight during our gift-giving to make an announcement. I do not think my father's heart could handle it." She glanced at the clock on the wall and said, "The rest of the food is finished or out there, so we can go change for the party."

He nodded and checked the dials on the stoves and ovens. Nothing was on. _But you can never be too sure_, Tony reassured himself, throwing a glance over his shoulder at both of them before following her out of the kitchen.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****2000 Hours  
W****ednesday, December 1, 2010**

Ziva looked stunning. Tony knew he shouldn't be staring as much as he was, or as blatantly, but he couldn't help it. While she was in conservative attire, the dark-blue, satin dress hugged her in all the right places, making any normal man's mouth go dry. The minimal amount of makeup she wore made her eyes sparkle and cheeks glow, although Tony wondered if perhaps that was from being with so many of her family and friends she hadn't seen in almost a year.

He had tried to match her (though subtly) by wearing a blue satin tie, which he thought looked more than alright with his charcoal dress-pants and white dress-shirt. While he knew Ziva had said a suit would be 'over-reaching,' he felt it was necessary, especially after seeing what Malachi was wearing. The Senior Field Agent's garb was far better in quality, being Italian-made, while the other's suit was made of cheap wool and polyester. _Who's vying for her heart __**now**__, Ben-Gidon? Bring i—wait. Vying for __**whose**__ heart, DiNozzo? Whoa, where did __**that**__ come from?_

His mind was in a frenzy, probably from watching Ziva socialize and laugh and make idle chit-chat with those who had been closest to her. He noticed that she was steering clear of both Liat and Malachi, which made him chuckle to himself. All comedy in the situation fled him when an elderly woman hobbled over to where he sat and plopped down next to him.

"I am Aunt Lucy," she warbled in broken English. "You are Tony."

Tony smiled. "Yup, that's me!" His face fell considerably when he was met with a stony glare. "Is that…bad?" he asked, hoping it wasn't.

"No. You are engaged to Zee-vah."

He shook his head. "No, we're just partners." Though he tried to keep his voice light, he knew he was failing pretty miserably. "Why do you think we're engaged? Do we act it?"

"She has ring on her finger," Lucy combated, giving him a stare that would make even Gibbs crumble. Tony tried to think of a ring that Ziva would be wearing, and then remembered the jade ring that Ducky had given her for Christmas the previous year. "You give to her."

"Oh, no, no!" Tony tried to defend himself. "One of our coworkers gave the ring to Ziva as a gift. His name is Ducky, and he's our Medical Examiner… He thought it would look nice with her skin tone."

Lucy shook her head decisively. "No," she declared, so convincingly that it made Tony doubt himself a bit. "You give to her. You propose."

He sat there for what seemed like an hour, trying to persuade her to believe otherwise, but Lucy ultimately stood and waddled away toward the food table. Sighing, Tony ran spread fingers through his hair, and then regretted it. He walked toward the stairs, with the goal of Ziva's bathroom mirror in mind. He was stopped short, however, by a bare leg at the head of the stairs. He let his eyes graze upward and finally found Liat's face at the top of the firecracker-red dress (that had, he noticed, a slit up to her hip).

"Tony," she greeted him, a minx-like, pouty smile gracing her equally red lips. "You look nice."

Bewildered, and uncertain of what to say to her, Tony just nodded and choked out, "You, too. I need a mirror." Squeezing past her, he found what he had been looking for and fixed his hair, combing it the way he knew Ziva liked it. _Damn, damn, damn, damn…._

Moments after he returned downstairs, the lighting of the menorah took place, along with prayers and such that Tony followed along with as well as he could. His practicing of the prayers had served him well, and he responded as confidently as the others around him. He smiled up at Ziva, who let her eyes sparkle at him briefly.

"Gifts!" Eli announced, sending the few children who were in attendance into hysterics. Tony removed the long box from his pocket and placed it in Ziva's hands, praying she would like it. The glitter to her brown eyes were enough of a reward; he didn't need to see her awe as she unfolded the silk scarf from its small, compact square.

"Tony, you should not have…" she had whispered, holding it up to the light. It was blue, with ivory lace at the ends. "It is beautiful. Thank you."

He was just as grateful for the amazing set of cufflinks she had given him.

The rest of the night went by swimmingly, and when Tony and Ziva went to bed, they didn't mind that they were in the same one.

* * *

_A/N: Good? Bad? The Ugly? Reviews are nice. **::smiles::** If you haven't been able to tell, I don't care for Malachi and Liat much. I feel like they're going to be the downfall of season 8, for reasons unbeknownst to me, but it still bugs me greatly. So. Anyway. Back on track...I hope you liked this chapter. I know that hashwe is more of a Lebanese dish but I figured, meh, it's the Middle East, and as long as there's not dairy mixed into any of it...So be it. Also, I know that Ziva doesn't keep kosher (she's mentioned it before, besides the fact she eats anything she wants, haha) so I had her go through the motions of the "Dairy/Meat Separation" thing. I've done lots of research. Hopefully... **::crosses fingers::** ... it paid off? Mm. Love, Kat._

_PS: HAPPY CHANUKAH!_

**_Note: _**Translations!

&_Chag Samaech _means 'Happy Holiday' in Hebrew. It's a more common greeting than 'Happy Chanukah,' I found. Kind of like people say, 'Seasons Greetings' or 'Happy Holidays' in the States, I guess.

&_Golem_ is defined in Jewish folklore as 'an artificially created human supernaturally endowed with life'. This, of course, was also in the episode _Enemies Domestic_. I read somewhere where 'Golem' also can refer to someone who's stupid. Like a 'bumbling idiot.' **::grins::** If you see where I'm going with this, congratulations...


	3. Day Two

**Hello again!** I'm so sorry for the delay. I hope Chanukah was great! (I don't celebrate, but I did notice that my college had a menorah set up in our Student Life office... Consider me pleased!) Just pretend that the upcoming episode on Tuesday the 14th isn't happening, okay? (Granted, Tony and Ziva _would_ technically be back by then, but to prevent any further confusion...just do as I say, bahaha.) I hope you enjoy this! It was fun to write. Love, Kat

**Disclaimer:** I don't own a menorah, nor do I own Tony...I wish I did...Meh.

**

* * *

**

The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
0300 Hours  
**Thursday, December 2, 2010**

She felt the light pressure of someone's arm slung over her abdomen, the gentle brushing of someone's eyelashes against the tender skin of her neck, the warm, slow breathing of someone deep in sleep… Ziva opened one eye and glanced downward, hoping it wasn't just a dream. She saw Tony laying there, shirtless, his strong arm around her, the proximity of his lips to her shoulder, and she shivered.

And woke him.

After giving a grunt of gentle accusation, Tony sat up and yawned away from her. _He must have horrid morning breath_, Ziva thought, smiling despite her awkward position. For a moment, she panicked. She ran her hand casually under the covers and felt that she was, in fact, wearing pajama bottoms _and _underwear, and that in a sense she could be sure nothing happened. There was always that constant worry—especially after that summer rendezvous a few years prior—but she felt she could rest assured that they had slept together in a less-than-sexual way.

Tony leaned over and grazed his lips over her forehead before getting up and, again, turning away from her. "Morning," he murmured, his back facing her. He stretched, tensing the muscles of his shoulders and between his shoulder blades. Ziva couldn't help staring.

"Good morning," she returned, averting her eyes as he turned around. "Did you…have fun?"

Tony nodded. "Yes. And there's seven more nights of this? Damn," he commented, grinning for a moment before turning serious. "I really would like to thank you for the cufflinks."

Ziva looked up at him rather coyly and nodded in the direction of the scarf she had strewn on the settee. "And thank _you_ for the beautiful scarf, Tony."

He just smiled at her and turned the television on. He hadn't asked to watch movies yet, and that surprised Ziva more than the fact he now was watching World News. She watched him gather his clothes and stand near the end of the bed, noticing the pajama pants he was wearing. They were a gray, heavy pair, and she thought she could see a Ralph Lauren logo on the side. They sat low on his hips, and she felt herself growing warmer.

Finally, she asked him if he was showering and he nodded. "But it's your house, so you shower first," he had added at the end, and she (flustered as she was) flew into the bathroom and then back out in under ten minutes, albeit with soggy hair. "You could've taken your time," he murmured when he saw her. He had taken the position of sitting on the very edge of the bed, and was now watching the screen with furrowed eyebrows and a rapidly growing frown.

"Is something wrong?" Ziva asked, taking a seat next to him. He said nothing but jerked his chin at the screen. It was an image of the _USS Seahawk_, the ship Tony had been stationed on as Agent Afloat two years ago.

"_Commanders on the ship have told us little pertaining to the crime itself,_" a woman with sandy hair explained in a professional news-casting voice, "_but their fear that Lieutenant Gerald Matthews will do something life-threatening to not only himself but the other men on the ship has not been lifted. Back to you, Cheri._"

"Thank you, Stacey ." The camera flipped back to a woman sitting behind a great desk, her eyebrows mirroring Tony's in that they, too, were pulled tightly in the middle of her forehead. "We'll keep you updated on the progress of this case as NCIS reports to us. Now over to Bob Singer on the status in the Middle East."

Tony turned the television off and sat there for a few minutes staring at the screen. Suddenly, he softly murmured, "Those are my men out there. I worked with them two years ago and now…they're in danger. It sucks, because there's nothing I can do about it."

Ziva's fear rested not as much with the men on the _Seahawk_ as much as the fact that Gibbs and McGee could possibly be on the ship as well. She nodded slowly and took Tony's hand. "It will be okay," she told him. "Gibbs will keep things under control."

He shook his head. "Something isn't right. I mean, that thing with the Spanish Influenza was bad enough, but some bastard decides to go on the ship and attack her men and somehow he isn't caught? He's _on the ship_!" Tony fumed, dropping his head into his hands. "I should be there."

It took all of Ziva's energy to not roll her eyes. "Tony, all you told anyone on our team while you were on the ship was how much you wanted to come home. How much you _hated _being Agent Afloat." She resisted the temptation to tell him how she'd feel if he were currently on the _USS Seahawk_, which of course would be absolute terror. Much like when his car exploded back when he was dating Jeanne, her heart would have stopped the moment Gibbs had told her the goings-on of Lieutenant Gerald Matthews.

"I know," he argued, "but…"

Ziva drew her eyebrows. "But…?" When he didn't say anything more, she rested a hand between his shoulder blades. "Do you want to go home?" Even though it was only the second day of Chanukah, she couldn't refuse him the chance to go home and help on the case.

Tony sat there for a moment without responding and then murmured, "No. I'm sorry. I'm happy you invited me and it's only the second day. If Gibbs needs us, he'll call." Although his voice was sure, Ziva saw that when he turned his head to face her, his eyes were imploring. She nodded, letting a small smile grace her lips before kneeling before him. "Whatcha doing?" he asked, chuckling softly.

She took both of his hands in hers and looked up at him. "Do you trust me?" He nodded. "Do you trust my father?" Tony's nostrils flared a little.

"Do _you_ trust him?" he turned the question on her, eyeing her carefully.

It took Ziva several beats to answer him before she finally nodded, albeit a hesitant bob of her head. "I…believe he has good intentions."

They stared at each other for what seemed like ages—causing both hearts to flutter quite rapidly, though neither would ever expect to admit it—and Tony sighed. "Then yeah, I guess I do." Ziva shot him a small smile.

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she told him, "I will have Father contact Director Vance as soon as he can, then. He will ask for information regarding the ship, and then I will relay his findings to you. I promise."

Tony leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. "Thank you," he said enthusiastically. "And now, I think I should go and get dressed…." He grabbed his bathrobe, toiletry bag, and a towel and rushed down the hallway in pursuit of one of the four other bathrooms on the floor. She shook her head, smiled, and went over to her closet to figure out what she would wear that evening.

* * *

_Damn it all_, Tony berated himself as he trekked down the hallway. _Damn it all to Hell, why don't you? _He shut the door firmly behind him and took out his shampoo, body wash, and a washcloth. After starting the water for the shower, he stared into the mirror and gazed at his reflected image. He didn't particularly like what he saw.

The first thing he noticed was that the creases in his forehead and between his eyebrows were more pronounced than they were eight years ago. Granted, the fact he was currently anxious and furrowing his brow made difficult any comparison, but he knew that he looked much older. Next, he detected deeper nasal labial lines, which meant his cheeks were sinking and, in Tony's opinion, thirty-nine years old was much too young for that to be happening to anyone—especially himself. Turning sideways, he grimaced, yet admitted (though grudgingly) he had put on a noticeable amount of weight (but blamed it on his wacky work schedule and stress of losing Jeanne).

His examination continued when he put his face very close to the mirror and studied his hair; much to his dismay, there was a minute, almost negligible sprinkling of lighter hairs that hadn't been there twelve months ago. Tony wasn't sure that they were necessarily _gray_, but he also couldn't be sure that they _weren't_. And with his job, he speculated that by the end of the year, he'd look just like Gibbs. Silver Fox, not so much, but certainly silver-haired.

The senior field agent let out a groan of disappointment when he spotted his rapidly growing crows' feet. He could almost feel himself aging. He could almost feel his eyelids sagging, back curving, hips becoming more brittle, and joints aching. And then he zeroed in on his lips. He _knew_ they had always been—and always would be—extremely kissable (seeing as the female population he'd had the pleasure of cavorting with in college and beyond had always made sure to tell him that…) but they had somehow morphed into a frown more than a … a … pout. He wanted a pout. He wanted one of those taut sets of lips that women always adored. The ones that just split enough so that they held a firm smile for Ziv—No, _women_ to press their lips into.

He wanted that. And now that he was getting old—for a thirty-nine year old, that is—he would lose it. He always _had_ it but he wanted it _back_. Why couldn't he be like Tony DiNozzo, Sr. and age gracefully? Why couldn't he have women falling all over themselves for him? Why couldn't he be _mother-effing married already_? He drew the conclusion that he was just too old for the marriage-age, female population, especially the one marriage-age female that he wanted most.

Finally, Tony tore his eyes away from the mirror and stepped into the lukewarm water. Lathering his hair with Sea-scented shampoo, he closed his eyes and found himself thinking of how beautiful Ziva had looked with her hair swept over one shoulder, kneeling on the ground before him, holding his hands, and promising that everything would work out. "Agh…" he voiced aloud, both in remembrance of that moment earlier and because shampoo got in his eye as it cascaded down his face.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Gardens  
****0700 Hours  
****Thursday, December 2, 2010**

A Myna chirped happily from outside the screened in porch, breaking Ziva out of her trance over tea, donuts, and the newspaper. She smiled and murmured, "_Yom tov,_ little one_._" After a short birdsong, the Myna flew away, leaving Ziva alone, curled up in the deck-chair by the outdoor fireplace.

She had debated waiting for Tony to finish showering, especially since she had gotten him up at three in the morning, but had gone downstairs shortly after picking out her clothes in an effort to give him some space. After that, even four hours later, she hadn't a clue where he had gone off to. Now, she was considering going inside to look for him, but didn't have to 'consider' long as the man in question plopped down in the chair next to her soon after she thought of him.

"I started coffee," she told him, turning the page of the newspaper. He nodded but did not move, just sitting there watching her. "May I help you?"

Tony shook his head, letting a small smile slip onto his face. He lifted her mug of tea to his lips, took a small sip, and then set it back down on the wicker table between their chairs. "Nope."

Unconvinced, Ziva snorted and set the paper down in her lap. "Then why are you smiling at me with such a silly grin?" she asked. She watched Tony raise an eyebrow, the smile still there and very apparent. "It is…weird."

He ignored her. "You're wearing the scarf," he murmured. "It looks nice on you." She bowed her head and gave him a soft 'Thank You' before unfolding her legs and leaning forward. He still looked at her.

"Anything else?" she wondered aloud. "You are still being creepy…"

He shrugged and leant back into his chair. "I don't know. I guess I slept well last night." Ziva nodded in agreement and went back to reading. Tony softly murmured, "You know what I'm having a difficult time getting over, Zeev?"

She rolled her eyes and looked up at him. "No. What?"

"You're literally the first woman who can get me out of bed before noon on vacation," Tony explained, again drinking from her mug.

Pursing her lips in faux-frustration, Ziva swatted his hand away. "If you want tea, there is hot water in the kitchen. Get your own." Tony shrugged again and grinned at her. "Fine, then, but you cannot drink mine."

"Why not?"

She let her eyes twinkle at his melodramatic expression of hurt. "Because, Tony, it is mine."

"Who taught you to share in kindergarten?" Tony grumbled, rising and disappearing into the living room. While he was gone, the Myna flitted back to his branch and chirped at her.

"Oh, trust me, I ask myself the same thing every day," Ziva told the bird and winked at him.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Kitchen  
****1000 Hours  
****Thursday, December 2, 2010**

Tony shoved the velvet box into his pocket just in time to turn around and see Eli, Liat, and Malachi waltz into the kitchen. He said a quick 'Thank you, God,' in his head before running an idle hand through his already purposely-unruly hair.

"Good Morning, Tony," the Mossad Director greeted him. Tony briefly wondered whether Director Davíd washed his white suit every night or had several of the same suit, since it seemed as though almost every time he saw the older man he was wearing a suit of ivory.

"Good morning, Eli," he replied, bowing his head in greeting. Liat sidled up to him and attempted to subtly bump hips with him. Raising an eyebrow, Tony murmured, "Same to you, Liat." Her sultry expression fell noticeably and Tony allowed himself to look at her. She was in her usual attire: black tee-shirt, army-green cargo pants—low-rise, of course. But there was something oddly feminine about her that caught Tony off-guard. He let his eyes graze over her—because he _was_ Tony DiNozzo, after all—and bronze flats caught his eye. The fact that her feet were so tiny was made more apparent by the fact her feet were encased in metallic leather and still looked to be literally half the size of his. She reminded him of someone. Her small frame and dainty features and completely kick-ass attitude rang a million bells in his head, but he could not for the life of him determine who that was.

Tony's eyes flitted back to Liat's face and he smiled kindly, only dropping his happy expression when Malachi sent him a warning glare. "And good morning to you, Malachi," he said, crossing the room to pour himself a cup of coffee. The Israeli man bared his pearly white teeth in what seemed like a sneer. Tony took this as a sign it was time for him to return to Ziva out on the screened in porch. He turned to go but Liat grabbed his arm and he therefore twisted around to look at her before straightening out and facing the woman. "Yes?" he asked, hoping a smile had graced his features. The last thing he wanted was an angry Israeli woman after him.

"Tony," Liat said, letting the vowels slip threw her lips seductively, her tongue flicking her top lip. "My car will not start. Would you help me?" There was such a pitiful gleam to her eyes, but Tony could see that it was based around her ulterior motives. Once she got him into her car, or under her car, or whatever she wanted…she would get under his hood. And he under hers. And it would be a huge mess.

But, regardless, Tony decided to play along. He was determined to figure out what irked him about her, and what she had plans on doing with him. After all, he was a thirty-nine year old man, and that meant he didn't have time to be picky.

He began with, "Well, Liat, is it making a weird sound?" The younger woman nodded and let a pout adorn her lips. "What's it sound like?"

She screwed up her face in thought before muttering, "Well, it kind of sounds like it is going to blow up." A twinkle returned to Liat's eyes and she smirked despite the problem with her car. "There is a low moan, and then there is a possibility that the engine has too much of a vibration…the gasket could be too large for the hose," she suggested, again licking her top lip. Tony knew what she was doing and wasn't impressed.

He smiled, though, and shook his head, "It sounds like your power steering pump's going. Maybe you should take it to a garage. It's nothing I can help you with, and if you have no control over your 'car', you're heading down a dangerous road." Liat's disappointment was obvious across her smooth features.

"So you cannot help me?" Her eyes narrowed considerably. "Or are you choosing not to?"

He grinned. "Oh, no, Liat. I'm not the guy you should be getting help from." Tony jerked his head in Malachi's general direction. "Malachi probably knows more than I do." He met her eyes and sent her a meaningful look, before waving to the others in the room and returning to the patio.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Garden  
****1400 Hours  
****Thursday, December 2, 2010**

"Wow…it's like a freaking oasis out here," Tony stated in awe, running his finger over the long petal of a Madonna lily and casting a shocked look around the garden. "It's pretty, but … wow."

Ziva nodded and stooped down to gently pull a weed out of the rich soil. "Yes. My father enjoys having this garden. It reminds him of my mother." She refrained from sniffing, even though she felt the prickly sensation in her nostrils that often came before the tears. This time of year was naturally very difficult for her, after losing Talia, then her mother, then Ari, and finally Michael. They had always spent the holidays together, so to not have her sister and half-brother around since then was painful.

Luckily, this year, she had her partner, friend, and companion with her to keep her company. Could she actually consider him a companion? She spent an entire summer with him the year she began working as a Mossad Liaison for NCIS, and that only ended because of Jeanne Benoit. Through her thoughts, Ziva emitted a low snort and stood, her mind still swirling images of being curled up on her old sofa with Tony watching classic movies and trying not to regress to her past as a sex-driven minx (but only because Mossad had demanded that she give her entire being to the cause, and sometimes that meant sleeping with the enemy in order to get the answers she needed).

Only after she had been around Tony for more than a year did she realize that he, too, had a "darker" side. A side that he didn't hide half as well as she did. It was sad, actually, how incredibly thick he was. Dr. Benoit had been his best kept secret. He had terrified her with how many times he'd gone to the hospital, and how many days he would come in looking exhausted. His bloodshot eyes and guilty smile gave away something, and she had automatically assumed that meant that he had fallen prey to Pneumonic plague again. Ziva hadn't been privy to the fact that the strain of Pneumonic plague that Tony had been infected with had carried a suicide chain, and that more likely than not he would simply have lung problems for the rest of his life instead of re-contracting the disease again…but that probably wouldn't have helped the situation anyway. She had been scared, and he had kept secrets.

Not only had Ziva been betrayed when she'd found out about Jeanne, but she had also been heartbroken. When the information had been passed along, however, and Tony's car had been blown up, and the possibility of his having been in that car was high, and then all of the events following had proceeded and hit him like a high-speed train…she had instead felt _his_ pain. _His _heartbreak had affected her more than her own.

And Ziva had wanted to punch that _kalba_ in the face after she'd said, "I wish I had never met you." Right after she'd refrained from running over and hugging him, that is. Ziva had known that wouldn't have helped Tony's situation any more than it would have helped her own. But _leazazel_, that had made her angry…

Ziva Davíd was confused. Extremely and completely confused. Was it sisterly protectiveness that she was feeling? Or was it more of a specific strain of possessiveness that consumed her? All the Israeli knew was that if Jeanne Benoit ever returned, she was going to have to go through her, whether her friendship with Tony had escalated to romance or not.

The thought of even having a romance with Very Special Senior Field Agent Anthony DiNozzo made her stomach pulse with something unbeknownst to Ziva. And it scared her.

"Um…Zeev? Are you ignoring me or something?" Tony asked, breaking Ziva out of her thoughts. "Did I say something…?"

She shook her head. "No, Tony. It is nothing to do with you," she said, and then directed his attention to a flowering hibiscus bush, fighting the blush that she felt working its way up to her cheeks.

Because she knew it had everything to do with him.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Upstairs Hallway  
****1800 Hours  
****Thursday, December 2, 2010**

_Shit. Shit, shi—_Tony stood upright and stared into the mirror down the hall. _Well, it's Chanukah. I should swear in Hebrew, shouldn't I? Okay, then. Harah. Harah, harah, harah!_ He sneered at his reflection and then straightened his tie. He had done something stupid, that he knew he'd regret, and that Ziva would either never let him live it down or hate him forever; either way, he would never forget his naiveté.

No one had been around for the greater part of the afternoon, since Aunt Lucy and Uncle Avraham (he had learned that it was essentially the same thing as 'Abraham', but pronounced and spelled slightly differently; Tony had felt extremely stupid upon discovering this and had been working very hard to make it up to the old man) were staying at the house as well. Eli had made it very clear that he had intended on taking Ziva, Lucy, and Avraham into the city and getting cookies and donuts for the evening's feast. Malachi, too, had somewhere to be. Tony assumed that he was going to see his own family.

But Liat stayed behind and, being the only two people in the house, Tony had allowed her to hang around him. In addition to being the only two people in the house … _they had been the only two people in the house_. So, unsurprisingly, Liat had done everything in her power to bring him to his knees. Playing with the Dreidel, wrapping gifts, playing songs on the piano…She had even attempted to convince him to cook with her that evening.

And finally, the inevitable had happened. There Tony had sat, unwrapping a chocolate coin from the bag Eli had given him the previous night, when two soft hands had worked their way around his neck, down his shoulders, and down over his chest. He had automatically assumed that Ziva had returned and that she was just messing around with him, as she sometimes had in previous years, and leaned back onto the back of the couch to look up at her.

Just as his brain had registered the fact that it wasn't Ziva, but instead Liat, he had known it was too late. Her lips were on his in a matter of seconds, her fingers tangled in his hair and tongue dancing merrily in his mouth. Any other time, he probably wouldn't have cared. But right then and there, he had decided it wasn't what he wanted and had gently pushed her away from him.

"No," he had said. "I'm sorry, Liat, but I can't." She had pouted at him and then given him a sultry half-smile.

Liat had then shaken her head and cooed, "Yes, you can. I know that you want it. After the e-mails Ziva sent me …" Tony had heaved a sigh and frowned. "She said that you were interested in talking to me more."

Tony had nodded and told her, "I was," with emphasis on the 'was.'

"So why not live a little, Tony?" She had toyed with a piece of hair that stuck out boyishly from his head.

"Because, I can't."

"You cannot _what_?" Pressing her lips to his neck, she had given him a small love bite as well. "You cannot lead a girl on and tease her and never do anything about it. You need to choose."

And after that, Tony had stormed from the room, both to examine his neck and escape the memory of Jeanne's letter. He had tried to focus only on the repercussions of having the evidence of a makeout session with the one woman Ziva hated more than perhaps Jeanne...If he'd had a hickey when Ziva returned, he would have been a dead man. When he had reassured himself enough that the bruising was only slight and would be insignificant by the time Ziva _did_ return, he had slunk to the bedroom he shared with Ziva, only coming out now, when he heard someone playing the piano downstairs.

Making his way to the banister of the balcony, he looked out over the parlor and saw that Ziva had set her purse next to the piano and was indulging Aunt Lucy in a concerto. As he watched her fingers glide over the pure ivory keys—as her piano was not just old, but ancient, circa 1886, according to McGee's response to Tony's previous picture text—he was caught in a feeling of wonder mixed with admiration. He had taken piano lessons when he was five, due to his mother's constant prodding, and still knew a few chords, but he'd never really taken it seriously. Now he wished he had.

Tony didn't notice how long he was just standing there observing the specimen before him until she and Lucy looked up and smiled at him. The smile on Ziva's face seemed almost knowing, but she said nothing. He felt his own face grow warm and cleared his throat, looping a thumb through his belt-loop and running a hand over the back of his head. "Hey…" he called down to her.

Lucy pointed between the two of them and muttered something that sounded like gibberish to Tony but he knew it was Hebrew. _"Ani yoda'at chaver shelach ohevet otcha,_" the old woman snapped, and he vowed to himself to either ask Ziva or look it up later. His partner just laughed and shook her head, so he knew it was somewhat funny, even though both women looked directly at him. He tried not to focus on it too much and was relieved when Lucy shuffled into the kitchen.

A glorious smell was permeating the house, and it struck Tony that Liat and Malachi were in charge of the cooking for the evening. Since there were donuts and other foods that contained dairy in the house that day, he figured that there would be no meat, unlike the previous evening when there were several meat-based dishes. He briefly wondered if Liat would try to poison him, but figured that the chances of her succeeding with so many people around and things to do were slim.

But that didn't settle the uneasiness of his stomach, and he decided that he was dehydrated and needed something to drink. He walked down the stairs and past the piano, only stopping when Ziva grabbed his hand. "Yes?" he asked, drawing out the syllable.

"Sit with me," she requested, scooting over to make room for him on the bench. He obliged and sat beside her, missing the warmth of her palm when she let go of his hand. "I am so sorry for leaving you here alone all day. It must have been so boring…"

Tony let out a half-cough-half-chuckle and scratched his Cupid's bow. "Yeah, but it gave me time to catch up on my Hebrew prayers, so it's all good."

Ziva shot him an odd look and a half-smile that screamed 'confusion' crept across her lips. "I see," she murmured. "Was anyone else here?"

_Harah!_ He couldn't very well say, 'No, Zeev, I was all alone,' because it was bound to be proven untrue later on anyway and he didn't want her to think he lied to her, but he likewise didn't want to tell her the truth because then she might get mad. He finally decided to give her a small shrug and said, "I'm not sure. Your house is really big…"

She raised an eyebrow. "Liat was here, wasn't she." The fact she phrased her words as a statement and not a question scared him greatly, but he said nothing. "Are you okay? She did not hurt you, did she? Did she touch you?" A rising level of resentment had seeped into her voice and was making him a big nervous.

"Not..really."

"What is that supposed to mean, Tony?" Ziva demanded softly.

"I…"

Her face met her lovely little palm swiftly, and she let out a sigh. "She kissed you, didn't she?" came her whispered groan, and Tony's heart broke. No one spoke for what seemed like fifteen minutes until Ziva lifted her head to look at him. "Well? Was it good?"

He shook his head, but faltered. Yes, it was good. Liat was a talented kisser and, albeit unexpected, the kiss had been enjoyable. But something just hadn't added up between them. And while Tony liked kissing, he wanted the chemistry to be right. He had found that with few people since Jeanne, and that bothered him greatly.

"Just wasn't the right girl," he stated simply, before playing several chords on the piano. Ziva eyed him suspiciously but soon gave in to the closeness between them and began the starting notes of a duet she had learned as a child.

Around six-thirty, she and Tony marched upstairs, changed, and came back downstairs to greet the guests of yet another party. The Senior Field Agent was feeling antsy, as was made apparent by his constant—but relatively muted—fidgeting. He just wanted it to be Day Eight, because if he had to look at the velvet box and wonder 'What if?' any longer, he was certain he would chicken out.

Ziva loved the set of international salts that Tony gave her that evening; it was complete with six one-ounce tins of salts from Italy, Korea, India, New Zealand, Cyprus, and Indonesia, and a crystal serving spoon. With her love of cooking, Tony had thought she would enjoy it.

The frustrated stare he received from Lucy was enough to tell him that he was going to hear it. But not after he opened a beautiful wooden case to reveal an equally beautiful wooden pen. He unfolded the slip of paper inside that was handwritten by Ziva.

_Shalom, Tony…I know we do not share a love of baseball, but when I saw this, I thought of you. It is made from the wood of a 1912 seat from Fenway Park. Enjoy. –Ziva._

As he stuck the paper back into the box and tucked the box itself into the inside pocket of his sport-coat, he noticed Lucy stand up and hobble over to him. "You give Ziva nice present," she stated.

Tony smiled thoughtfully. "I thought she'd enjoy it; she likes to cook, and I hear that all salts are different depending on where they come from. It just seemed to fit."

"You fit with her."

"Pardon?" he asked, cocking his head. "I fit with..?"

Lucy nodded ardently. "She give nice gift to you."

"Oh, yes, she did," Tony said, grinning. "I love it. I'm a huge baseball fan. Do you watch?"

The old woman shook her head and frowned deeply at him. "You give each other nice gifts. You fit with each other. Like puzzle." She interlaced her fingers as though putting together a jigsaw puzzle. "You fit like puzzle," she repeated adamantly.

"Um…" At a loss, Tony nodded and acquiesced, "Yes. Ziva and I work well together. We're partners and very good friends."

Lucy snorted. "Yes. Good friends," she muttered before standing and then muttering something else. Tony caught the tail end. "_Tem'bal_." With that, she was gone.

Ziva plopped down next to him and refilled Lucy's prior seat. "Do you like my aunt? She seems to have taken a liking to you," she joked, gently nudging his arm.

Preoccupied, he nodded.

When the party came to a close at eleven, Tony and Ziva dragged themselves upstairs and flopped onto the bed, again falling asleep almost instantly, still cuddled closely to the other to keep warm.

_

* * *

_

**Translations: (warning, some vulgarities.)  
**_Ani yoda'at chaver shelach ohevet otcha. (I know your friend loves you.)  
__Harah. (Shit.)  
__Tem'bal. (Idiot.)  
__Kalba. (Bitch.)  
__Leazeazel. (Damn.)  
__Yom tov. (Good day/Good morning.)_

_**Remember: **I do not speak Hebrew. If I have made a mistake and have situated the words wrong for a sentence in Hebrew (especially for "I know your friend loves you") please, by all means, let me know. Believe me, I know absolutely nothing but am trying to teach myself how to speak/write. So, please also be patient with me… Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Love, Kathryn_

**_PS:_**_I forgot to tell you; I have three cats. One big black cat who's the 'boss' of the house; one grey, long-haired one with golden eyes that's paranoid; and one small kitten, whose name is Tony (my grandmother's friend is convinced he was named Tony because of Tony the Tiger, since he's a tiger-cat, but I argue that it was because of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo). I have decided that I am going to film them all for a few days and put together a series called "NCIS: Neurotic Cats Investigative Service".** LJ Tabbs **will be portrayed by Sylvester, our big, lovable 'boss-like' cat; **Sheba** will be portrayed by Ghost, our paranoid, but deep down quite caring, cat; **Tabby Scoot-dough** will be portrayed by my black cocker-spaniel Abby (I felt she needed a name-boost). Our little kitten Tony plays who, you ask? Psh, you don't change Anthony DiNozzo's name. So, that being said. **Special Aggravator Tony DiNozzo** will be portrayed by the one, the only Tony. It's a winter project. It'll all be on youtube eventually, which I will link you all to. Very excited. Hope you all watch! Love, Kathryn._


	4. Day Three

A/N: Hello! This update was sooner, yes? Mmk...well...Let's just...Read, yes?

**Disclaimer**: I do in factttttt own a sparkly tiara! Thank you, Prom 2010. **::smiles::** Ookay...go read now. (Oh, and I own the name McGarland, too. You'll see.)

**

* * *

**

**The Davíd House  
0800 Hours  
****Friday, December 3, 2010**

"_Yom tov_, Father," Ziva murmured, pulling out a stool and plopping down onto it. Eli stood on the far side of the kitchen, chin firmly grasped in his hand and a cordless phone pressed against his left ear. He nodded his response but the worry that creased his forehead undermined the kindness of his eyes. _Vance,_ she thought, taking a sip of tea and unfolding the newspaper. There was no more news about the issue on the _USS Seahawk_, but if there had been, she wanted to read it.

Tony had been obsessing for the good part of the morning, purposely waking up at three to watch _CNN_. Ziva had dozed—seated upright with her cheek against his shoulder—while he had scoured the screen for any small clue. Tony, Ziva could tell, was both disappointed and worried. Therefore, to give him space when he had returned to bed and rolled away from her, she had gotten up and went to the west wing of the house to the fitness room to fight off any fat cells that had decided to form thanks to the rich feasts they'd been having. And then, she had showered, gotten ready for the day, and skipped down stairs to eat an orange for breakfast.

Eli nodded, light from the above pounded-copper chandelier bouncing off of the cufflinks and buttons of his suit. He rambled off a block of Arabic speech, which Ziva internally translated. "Get him off of the ship. Now. Not only will he kill our friends at NCIS, but he will in turn wreak havoc on the sea. This is not the seventeenth century, Yaseen. We have no time for pirates." She snorted to herself, images of Johnny Depp swashbuckling—was that the word Tony had used that one time?—the flight-deck of the _Seahawk_ floating to the surface of her mind. The reality soon kicked in, though, sending her back to her prior task of reading the newspaper, while still translating for her father due to her own curiosity.

"Damn-it, Yaseen!" Eli said firmly, which set Ziva's comfort level a bit off center as he rarely swore unless it was a dire situation. She found herself wondering if he had sworn at anyone when she was held captive in Somalia. Had he been trying to find her? Had he called anyone and insistently demanded that she be looked for? "Do you not see what we have worked for and attained? Get him off the ship _now_, or I will be forced to send my own officers to take him off for you." Did Ziva still count as an officer in his heart, even if she were an NCIS agent now?

There was a lengthy pause, during which Ziva held her breath.

"No, that is not soon enough. Tomorrow. Better yet, tonight. Yes, Yaseen, tonight is better than tomorrow. If any NCIS agents are injured—if anymore United States seamen or Marines are injured—you will be answering to Mossad. Understood?" This 'Yaseen' character must have agreed to Eli's terms, for the latter quickly murmured, "_Toda_. _LeHitra'ot_," and hung up.

Ziva hesitantly smiled at her father and set the paper down. "Is this about the matter I discussed with you yesterday?" Eli nodded. "Has there been any progress?"

Sending her a grave look, he shook his head. "Leon has not returned my calls, and as far as Yaseen Basara is concerned, the embassy is no longer in charge of this case either." Ziva's breath caught in her throat; the thought of how Tony would feel when she told him the news made her heart sink. "I will continue trying to make contact with NCIS, but Yaseen is taken care of."

"Who is he?" Ziva asked. "You mentioned the embassy…?"

"Yes. Yaseen works with the embassy and helps Muslim and Middle Eastern immigrants become Americans," he explained matter-of-factly. "The man aboard the _Seahawk_ is one of his former clients. Obviously, the Americanization that the gentleman underwent did not make a lasting impact." There was a bitterness under his joke that Ziva caught, but she didn't mention it for fear her father would snap at her. Instead, she shrugged.

Tony walked into the room at that moment, looking very breezy and lighthearted. "_Yom tov_!" he said cheerfully, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl in the center of the counter. "Anything new in the news?" Though his question was open-ended, Ziva knew he was referring to the _Seahawk_ issue. She shook her head and looked up at him.

"Unfortunately," she murmured, "no." She did, however, explain what Eli had just told her, which made him close his eyes in distress.

Eli noticed this and poured the younger man a cup of coffee, dropping two sugar cubes into it. "Tony, if at any point you wish to return to the United States, feel free to tell me so. I will arrange it accordingly." His solemn word was received well with Tony, who inclined his head with gratitude.

"Thank you, Eli, but I trust Gibbs to handle the situation," Tony mumbled. "The past few days have been really great. Thanks for opening your home to me." Eli clapped him on the back and told him that as long as he was on good terms with his daughter, he was on good terms with the family. Soon after, he left.

The emptiness in the kitchen fell heavily on both NCIS agents and they looked at each other for a while before Ziva finally spoke. "My cousin is coming today to stay with us for the remainder of Chanukah, since Doda Lucy and Dod Avraham are leaving."

Tony raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Oh yeah? Is she yet another exotic Davíd beauty?" He was joking, but Ziva still thought she could sense a bit of seriousness underneath his comical demeanor.

"Mm, yes, but she is not ready to date," she explained, turning the page of her paper. She looked up at him and said, "She is a recent widow." A pained expression crossed Tony's face and she nodded at him. "While I was…_away_, last year. It was a hard time for the family." Changing the topic slightly, she continued, "They should be here around noon. You will love her daughter, Eliana."

_Or at least I hope you will…_

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****1230 Hours  
****Friday, December 3, 2010**

"_Zivaaaaa!_" a small girl cried, launching herself around the sofa and up onto Ziva's lap. Tony jumped slightly, only out of surprise. "I missed you!" Ziva laughed and hugged the little girl to her, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. Tony watched on in bemusement, struck by the image before him of Ziva warm and bubbly toward the child.

"Eliana," she murmured, and Tony finally knew her name, "meet my partner, Tony."

Tony smiled down at her, took her tiny hand in his and raised it to his lips to kiss it. "Pleasure to meet you, Eliana. You have very pretty eyes." They were light hazel, with a darker chestnut brown near the pupil that blended seamlessly with the black. Surrounded by long eyelashes, her twinkling eyes held a youth that Tony could have sworn he had seen in Ziva's.

In fact, much about Eliana's appearance was similar to Ziva's, which made him even more comfortable with being around the little girl. Not romantically, of course, but he could pretend—in his mind's eye—that Eliana was even maybe Ziva's daughter. She had the same rosy cheeks, dark eyebrows, and bright smile. Over her shoulders tumbled dark brown curls, much like the hair of the woman whose lap she was sitting on. The familial resemblance was astonishing.

Bashful, Eliana turned her head into Ziva's chest and mumbled, "Hi, Tony." She stared out of the corner f her 'pretty eyes' at him but said nothing more.

To his partner, Tony softly asked, "And how old is the princess?" He was soon confronted with Eliana's small hand displaying five fingers. "Ooh, five years old, huh?" He glanced at the piano. "When I was five years old—that was a _really_ long time ago—I learned how to play the piano. Do you know how to play the piano?" She shook her head and stuck her thumb into her mouth. Tony dropped his voice. "Would you like to _learn_ how to play piano?" Eliana didn't answer but hid her face in Ziva's arm.

Ziva played go-between for the next hour or so, and by the time she left to begin planning dinner, Eliana and Tony were the best of friends.

The small girl crawled up onto Tony's lap and, although somewhat worried that she would fall off, he simply shifted his arm so that it acted as a barrier between her and the end of his knees. She toyed with the button of his collar and then asked him, "Do you live here?"

"Where's 'here', Eliana?" he replied, watching her intently unbutton and re-button his collar several times. She pouted her lips just like Ziva did when the latter was concentrating on something, Tony noticed.

Eliana turned her attention to his pocket, in which he had a small notebook. He'd started keeping it there out of habit due to NCIS, when he always needed to be prepared to write down information pertaining to a case. Having a pocket-sized notepad with him and a pen became common law, learned from Gibbs himself within the first year of working there. Now, the little girl had extracted the notepad from his pocket along with the pen he had stashed there and was flipping through to find a clean page. When she found it, Eliana stabilized it against Tony's chest and started drawing. "Israel," she mewed, and then held up the notepad to show him her art. "This is a _men-or-uh._"

"It's a very pretty menorah, too, sweetie," Tony said, surprising himself with the usage of the pet name. "No, I don't live in Israel. Ziva and I live in America." He forgot to mention that they weren't—

"Together?" Eliana's eyes snapped to his and she clicked his pen a few times.

"Uh…" Tony stumbled on his words but he finally said, "No…not _together-_together. We're friends. We work together in America." This seemed to satisfy Eliana, who smiled and went back to drawing.

When she was done, she stowed the pen back in his pocket and asked, "Can I rip this out for _Eima_?" Tony nodded and she carefully tugged on the paper, separating the sheet from its squiggly edges due to the perforated line. "_Toda_," she hummed.

"You're welcome." He had to chuckle. Six months prior, Anthony DiNozzo Jr. would never have expected to be sitting on the couch holding Ziva Davíd's baby cousin in his lap. Hell, on Thanksgiving, even, he wouldn't have expected it, and now glaring up at him was that baby cousin. "Oh, I'm sorry. Um… _Al-Lo-Davar_," he corrected swiftly, earning him a smile from the child. Eliana just giggled. "Let's go find your…hm… '_eima_', you said?" She nodded. Tony stuck out his hand and she took it after hopping off of his lap.

He stood and led her to the kitchen, where he was struck by the image of two stunning women standing in the corner. One was Ziva, and he assumed the other was Eliana's mother. When his partner noticed his entrance, she quickly introduced the other woman as Nina. "_Naim meod_," Nina stated, casting a kind smile on him. He saw that she looked sad and he got a bit confused, which she must have interpreted as his inability to translate Hebrew, because she decoded for him, "Nice to meet you!"

Tony chuckled and said the same, before telling her that Eliana had wanted to show her something. Nina leant down and her daughter thrust the piece of paper toward her. Taking it, she murmured, "Oh, Eliana, _ze yeffei'fe_!"

Eliana beamed up at her mother. "This is Tony. He lives with Zee-vah," she explained matter-of-factly. Nina glanced up at Ziva, who quickly shook her head and shot Tony a glare that obviously asked, 'What the hell did you tell her?' He shrugged and also shook his head before stooping down next to her.

"Eliana," he said to her, taking his small hand in his, "Ziva and I don't live together. We are just friends. Nothing more." The little girl stood there, the perfect image of skeptical. "Really, Eliana…I wouldn't lie to you." He noticed a softness within himself that he hadn't seen since Jeanne, and that scared him. Eliana pressed her free hand against his cheek and shook her head. "You don't believe me?"

"No," she stated plainly before turning into her mother's leg and hugging it. Tony's eyes met Ziva's and they shared a smirk before Nina asked where Eli was. Her cousin told her she thought he was in his den, and both the woman and her daughter disappeared through the doors.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Closet  
****1400 Hours  
****Friday, December 3, 2010**

Ziva was bored. Extremely bored. She hadn't the gall to go up to Tony and say, "I am bored. Let's go do something." She felt that would be too forward, besides giving the wrong message altogether. So instead, she retreated to her bedroom to sit in her closet and read.

That had been her safe haven as a child. If Ari or Talia were annoying her—or Michael was chasing her insisting she go fishing with him—she would turn all the lights off in her bedroom, retrieve the flashlight she had regularly stashed under her bed, and retreat to the abyss of what she knew as her closet, shutting the doors behind her. There she would sit for hours, reading or writing or thinking. Sometimes she would pray, especially when the reason for going there was her father's anger. No one would look for her there, she knew, and therefore she felt safe.

So without telling anyone, Ziva vanished into her closet and stayed there for a good two hours, until Tony finally came into her bedroom and started talking to himself. It wasn't a mark of insanity, of course…_Everyone talks to themselves, after all_, she thought. But her nosiness caused her to listen to each word he said.

"Good job, DiNozzo," Tony muttered, and although Ziva couldn't see him, she imagined him pacing and straightening the room. Perhaps even making the bed or setting out clothes for that evening. "You've got her cousin _and_ her cousin's daughter _and_ her aunt all thinking that you're in a relationship. So now what're you going to do?" He sighed and it took all of Ziva's common sense to not jump out of the closet and ask him what he was talking about. When he began talking again, he almost sounded contrite.

"God, why can't I get anything right anymore?" he hissed at himself before tossing something into a drawer, slamming it shut, and leaving the room.

If Ziva had planned on sitting in her closet to meditate and escape the awkward feelings she was being bombarded with for Tony, she was sadly mistaken. Her mind whirled with memories of all flirtations between them in quick succession, like a rapid fire machine gun within her skull. Her breath grew quick and shallow. She rarely let herself get to this point, but after waking up beside him for the past two mornings, Ziva had realized that she missed the good morning kisses and whatever followed that often accompanied a relationship. And then, of course, there was the fact she had once _had_ that with Tony, as superficial as it had been since they were undercover as assassins and nothing more, but she sometimes thought about it as a jumping-off point that could have led to a relationship.

Also at the front of her mind was the conversation she'd had with Tony after they had found Director Shepherd's bloodied, unmoving body on the dusty floor of the diner in California…

_Ziva had followed Tony to Ducky's Autopsy Lab after the senior field agent had stormed from Abby's. There he'd been, sitting in a dark corner, sipping glass after glass of Ducky's scotch from crystal tumblers. "You're crying over spilled...milk," she had murmured, pouring herself some of the sweet alcohol._

_Tony had looked up at her and bitterly laughed. "It's not milk I spilled." There had been a lengthy pause, in which he looked as though he might have cried. "She died alone."_

_"We are all alone," she had reminded him._

_He had blinked. "I just mean that she never got married, never had any children, never even heard her talk about it. Paris...that's when it must have happened." _

_Ziva had known exactly what he meant. Gibbs and Director Shepherd had obviously had a romance sometime in their past together. She had nodded and said, "The two of them alone, in another world…"_

_"Putting their lives in each other's hands, every day," Tony had continued, staring off into space in retrospect._

_"Not to mention the long nights," Ziva had murmured, and it had taken all of her will to not bring up their undercover stint." _

_Tony had met her eyes, stormy blue meeting chocolate brown. "It was inevitable," he had whispered, looking away. _

_Ziva had disagreed. "Nothing is inevitable," she had softly told him before meeting his gaze again. To herself, she had stated, 'Nothing in the world.'_

The rest of the evening had been full of single-word text messages and a lengthy phone call—during which Tony had been tipsy and wondering about the meaning of life—but nothing more had been said on the topic. The only time The Director's death had been brought up again was the following year, when they had seen each other for the first time in four months…Aboard the _Seahawk._ She sometimes wished she and Tony could be together, simply because she wanted to be _needed_. Ziva wanted to be the one he ran to for advice, comfort, love, kisses, a shoulder to cry on, arms to hold him…

There was the nonstop fear in her mind, of course, that if they ever _did_ try to have a relationship, they would fail and never be able to work together again. That must have been the basis of Gibbs' Rule Number Twelve, of course, and therefore she didn't question it much further.

Ziva stood and stepped out of her closet, trying to push all of these thoughts from her brain. She was so preoccupied with this harrowing task that she completely forgot about what Tony had left behind.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Kitchen  
****1600 Hours  
****Friday, December 3, 2010**

"Zee-vah?" Eliana crooned, holding a sippy-cup of apple juice in her tiny—but long for her age—fingers.

"Yes, love?" Ziva hummed, rolling out cookie dough. "Would you like more apple juice?" After spreading butter onto the dough, she sprinkled chopped walnuts and brown sugar onto it as well and then wiped her hands on a paper towel. When she looked up, however, she saw Eliana staring out the window. Ziva followed her gaze and her eyes alighted on Tony, Malachi, and her father. They had gone outside to walk a bit and discuss the NCIS matters.

Now, she saw that Tony was staring at Eli with a pained expression across his features and there was an unfamiliar downward pull to his mouth. The news must have been horrid. She watched on as he shook his head and relaxed his neck so he could stare straight down at the ground. Moments later, he murmured something and looked over Eli's shoulder through the window. Ziva knew she was caught, but it surprised her that instead of being annoyed at her for being nosy, his eyes begged her to console him. He finally tore his eyes from hers and walked around the corner of the house.

It was no shock that his first stop when he walked through the front door was the kitchen. He swung his leg over the stool and sat there with steepled fingers. Softly, he said, "Are you busy?"

"I just need to roll up the rugelach and put them in the oven," she told him, and then did so. Tony sat and watched on in silence until she had placed the cookies on the cookie sheets and then into the oven. "Eliana, do you know where your mother is?"

"She's in the _gahn_." Eliana sucked on her sippy cup and then held her arms out for Ziva to pick her up and let her down onto the floor.

Ziva nodded and did so. "Well, sweetie, I think she would like some company. I will come collect you when the cookies are out of the oven, okay?"

"Yeah!" The little girl ran off in the direction of the back door and Ziva turned toward Tony, who launched in his explanation.

"He's shot four men so far." This disappointed Ziva, who had been hoping Gibbs could have gotten there in time to prevent anything else from happening. "Two lieutenants, an admiral, and a janitor," he elaborated.

Ziva stepped forward, still wiping her hands on the towel. "Tony, I am so sorry…" He shook his head again, more insistently this time. "This must be so hard for you…"

"I didn't know any of them. They're new onboard." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving a strand sticking straight up. Ziva reached up and ran her fingers dobwn over the unruly patch, an action that she knew would earn her a pesky smile. And that it did. "Thanks, mom," Tony joked, and Ziva pulled her hand away.

After sending him a mock-glare, she muttered, "I assure you, Tony, that it was the farthest thing from motherly." He simply waggled his eyebrows at her for a moment before the possibilities of what she meant hit him.

"So," he mumbled awkwardly, "What're you making?"

"Walnut rugelach," she told him. "It is a type of cookie." Ziva walked around the counter and began rolling out a second ball of dough. Tony nodded and walked around the island as well to join her, stealing a punch of filling and sticking it in his mouth. She bumped her hip against his in an effort to get him to stop. "Hey! That is for the party later."

Tony grabbed an apple and tossed it in the air, catching it as he walked out the door of the kitchen. Before he swept around the corner and out of sight, he stopped, turned, and winked at her. "Catch _you_ later." And then he was gone.

_That man…_

* * *

**The Davíd House, Patio  
****1700 Hours  
****Friday, December 3, 2010**

"Listen to me, McGarland," Tony groaned into the speaker of his cell phone, "This is really important, so I need you to do what I say, alright?"

"Yeah," McGee snapped. "I'm sorry that I'm working on a _case_ right now and am _trying_ to hack into the CIA. But that's okay. Whatever." The Senior Field Agent heard furious typing coming through the speaker. "Okay, so what do you need, Tony?"

Tony sighed loudly. "You've heard of _Lamb Chop_, right?" There was a lengthy pause. "Come on, Tim, I don't have much time."

"I've heard of the … food …" McGee's voice was very unsure, and several clicks followed. "Wait, you're going to give Ziva a rack of lamb?"

"No, McSparkles," Tony sneered, "I'm not sending Ziva a rack of lamb." Composing himself, he murmured, "Haven't you heard of Cheri Lewis? You know, the whole Lamb Chop and Charlie Horse and Hush Puppy bit?"

"Yeah…" More typing.

"Okay, well, about fifteen years ago, there was a special on PBS called _Lamb Chop's Special Chanukah._"

"Right." Even more typing. Tony thought he could pick out a slow version of iambic pentameter between the taps.

"Ziva's cousin's daughter, Eliana, is five years old, and I thought it would be nice to have her watch it, you know?"

"Sounds good."

Tony knew that McGee wasn't paying attention to him. "And then, of course, I thought I'd take them all to the whorehouse and stuff dollar bills in their bras." He held the phone away from his ear to protect his eardrum from the impending…

"WHAT?"

He dissolved into a cackling laughter that he hadn't experienced in several years. Something about McGee's reaction was just too amusing. "No, McGee, I was kidding. But seriously, can you get me a copy of the DVD and then email it to me?" They had to be able to do something…

McGee thought for a moment and then answered, "Yes! And yeah, I can do that. Do you have DVDs with you?"

"No. I'll just play it off of a laptop."

After a short—and very muffled—conversation with Gibbs about something, McGee came back and said quickly, "Expect it in your inbox by tomorrow morning."

"I knew I liked you for a reason!" Tony exclaimed. "That sounds good. Thanks, Tim."

"You're welcome, Tony."

There was the lingering question of whether Tony should ask about the case but he finally decided not to, instead hanging up and stowing the cell phone back in his pocket.

He knew Eliana would love it. Meanwhile…

* * *

**The Davíd House, Eli's Study  
****1700 Hours  
****Friday, December 3, 2010**

"Eli! I know that there are more feelings than _just_ friendly ones," Lucy snapped in Hebrew. "I am a matchmaker. I know what I am doing. After all, who was it that introduced you to Rivka?"

Eli hung his head. "Lucy, Lucy, Lucy…Do not push your luck," he replied, also in Hebrew. "You do not understand. Ziva will do what she wants in whatever time she wants to. We will have no influence over her decision." As an afterthought, he murmured, "Rivka was unfaithful, Lucy. That is where Ari came from."

She waved her hand at him. "Eli, for the most part, her fidelity was true. She apologized to you for all that she put you through. You loved her, and she loved you. Do not pretend that it was not so." After heaving a great sigh, Lucy continued, "I am a _Shadkhan_. Trust me, Eli, won't you?" She hobbled over to the chair on the other side of Eli's desk. "Now, we must talk strategy. They are both very intellectual people, and we cannot risk them knowing what we are planning."

So for the next hour, Eli and Lucy planned exactly how they would lead Tony and Ziva together. Because as L.M. Montgomery once said, 'What had seemed easy in imagination was rather hard in reality.'

* * *

**The Davíd House, Staircase  
****1900 Hours  
****Friday, December 3, 2010**

"Ah! _Beitsem_," Liat snapped, running a hand over her hair. "Everything has to be perfect."

Malachi turned to her and crinkled his nose. "You are wearing new perfume." After sneezing, he sniffed loudly and said, "Oh, Liat…What have you gotten yourself into?"

She paraded in the mirror and ignored him.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****1930 Hours  
****Friday, December 3, 2010**

Eliana flitted from table to table, greeting each guest as though they were her best friend. When she finally found Tony, eyes alighting on the wrapped present he held in his hands and was extending toward her. "What's that?"

"Ziva and I are giving you a gift, Eliana," he told her warmly. "Would you like to open it now?" The little girl grinned and nodded madly, and Tony scooped her up and carried her to the couch, then set her on his knee. "Here you are…"

He watched on as she tugged at the gold ribbon and finally ripped off the wrapping paper. Finally, she lifted the top off of the box and gasped with delight when she lifted in her small fingers the sterling silver tiara. It was laden with diamonds and pink jewels, sparkling in the candlelight. "_Ze yeffei'fe!_" she cooed. "_Toda_, Tony!"

"Would you like to wear it, Eliana?" Tony asked, her wide grin warming his heart. He lifted the tiara from Eliana's hands and laced the combs through her curls. "It looks very nice! Do you like it?"

"Yes. Do I look like a princess?" she wondered aloud, fluffing her hair.

Tony inclined his head to her. "Yes, Eliana, you look just like a princess!" She hugged him briefly and then rolled off of the couch to run and find her mother, and he figured she wanted more apple juice. He turned to see Ziva sitting in the spot Eliana had just vacated, which caused him to jump. The fellow agent eyed him suspiciously. "What?" he defended himself, smirking.

"You bought her a gift," she stated simply. Tony shrugged and pulled out a box from behind him. "And you bought me a gift as well." He said nothing but twitched an eyebrow at her. "Should I open it now?" He nodded. She untied the bow and pulled the paper away to reveal a glossy box. She read the top of it and then sneered at Tony. "Oh, very funny. You had to buy a game that you know you would win at."

"Well," Tony murmured, "had to have fun somehow." He had seen it on the shelf at Wal*Mart and had only been able to see himself playing it with Ziva, maybe cozied up with next to some pillows, drinking wine, perhaps after they cooked dinner togeth—_No, I have to stop thinking like that!_ He shook his head, took the box from her and recited, "'_Word Teasers:_ _A rapid-fire game of educational questions posed through popular idioms. Saying's meaning and origin on the back of card. Test your knowledge.' _Well, that'll be fun!"

Ziva just sniffed and shoved a medium-sized box toward him. "I know your Mustang was blown up, but …"

He unwrapped the box with flourish and held its contents up to the light. "Holy crap…" Inside lay two pewter objects: a black Mustang key-ring and a paper weight of the same color. They were both accented with silver and he grinned. "Ziva, wow…Thank you." Uncharacteristic of the usual Tony, he gave in to the pull between them and hugged her. He held back a satisfied sigh when she wrapped her arms around his waist, too. They sat there, holding each other, for several moments before sitting back from each other. "You realize, of course, that these are going to be utilized every day at the office and locked up in my desk whenever I leave? Yeah."

The former Mossad agent threw her head back and laughed.

Tony didn't have the heart not to join her, and the laughter only increased as their glasses of wine refilled themselves and they ended up falling into bed at a little after midnight.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Toda. LeHitra'ot. (Thank you. Goodbye.)  
__Eima. (Mommy.)  
__Ze yeffei'fe! (It is beautiful!)  
__Gahn. (Garden.)  
__Shadkhan. (Matchmaker.)  
__Beitsem. (Balls.)_

_In reference to your questions of, 'Who in the world is Rivka?' She is Ziva's mother. If you look in Ziva's personnel file in Dead Man Walking, I believe, it's in there. Hmm..."My Dearest R." Is this possibly Dearest R, one and the same? Oh, Mr. Bellisario, please let us know soon! I was jusssttt thinking about that today!_


	5. Day Four

_A/N: Heyyyy. Okay. So, there are several mistakes that I've caught from the last chapter. They are as follows:  
1. I have recently become aware that Ari is Eli's illegitimate son with another woman. For some odd reason, I thought that it was reversed...I thought that Rivka was unfaithful to Eli and BOOM, there comes Ari. SO, I have decided **not** to fix it, and have that be just another part of the beautiful A/U fandom that I have created._

_2. Have you watched Judgement Day part II recently? I hadn't until I caught it on **USA Network** a few days ago. Guess what? `S'not the **USS Seahawk** that Tony was sent to be Agent Afloat on, but the **USS Ronald Reagan**. News to me, of course. So that, too, is a bit of Alternate Universeness. Oh well. **::shrugs::** Tony can be Agent Afloat anywhere, in my opinion...Just not for too long._

_That's it for now, but if I come up with anymore by the end of the chapter, you will be the first people to know, haha. Or, in the words of Vance, "Second, but for now that'll do." Ah, what a sad but amazing episode...Okay, I'm done obsessing; go read. Love, Me._

**_Disclaimer:_**_I don't own Lamb Chop, or any characters from the amazing Cheri Lewis. I also don't own either of the gifts from this chapter, nor do I own the Twelve Days of Christmas. Oh, and I'm allergic to passionfruit so I don't own Ziva's shampoo either._

**

* * *

**

The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
**0700 Hours  
****Saturday, December 4, 2010**

The house was quiet the next morning apart from the gentle breeze playing with the wind-chimes on the front porch. Ziva rolled over and found herself nestled in a pair of strong arms, her chest against a well-built torso and her body curled around that of someone whose five o'clock shadow was beginning to rub against the skin of her shoulder.

"Mmph," the person mumbled through sleep, "so soft…" Ziva raised her eyebrows and, as an experiment, fluttered her eyelashes against the other person's neck. Out nowhere, he bit her. Not a chomp, but a love-nip. It still startled her.

"_Tony_!" she yelped, sitting up and yanking the pink, cotton sheet up to her shoulders; Tony let out a bark of surprise as well. He rolled away from her and almost fell on the ground, pulling the duvet with him. They sat there, staring at each other with wide eyes, for what felt like at least half an hour, before Ziva accused softly, "You bit me…"

"Did not!" he argued, stumbling to his feet. "I did _not_ bite you." Ziva dropped the sheet to reveal her tank-top and shoulder, with the perfect, red outline of his top and bottom front teeth. Tony looked at the mark for several minutes before groaning, "Oh…I'm sorry." He actually sounded sorry and was, as far as Ziva could tell, but she wasn't going to let him get off the hook that easily. She stared him down, brown eyes melding with his conflicted blues. "Zeev? Say something?"

After a moment, she nodded and told him, "You are forgiven." The unspoken 'but' rang in the air, however, and Tony squared his shoulders in response. "But…you had best watch out, because I do believe this requires a bit of revenge, yes?" She thought she possibly saw a shiver run down his back but ignored it. "Oh, Tony, aren't you happy you came to Chanukah with me, now?" She winked and hopped out of bed, equally ignoring the fact that she wasn't necessarily wearing pajamas but simply a camisole and whatever panties she had been wearing the night before.

As Ziva made her way to the bathroom, she saw out of the corner of her eye her blue wrap-around dress strewn across a small chaise lounge. Had she really drank so much wine that she had forgotten all of the previous night's events? Shaking her head, she started water for her shower, set out her bathrobe and a towel, and sat on the counter.

When the water was lukewarm, she stepped under the arch and let it drench her hair and run down her face, before squeezing pomegranate and passion fruit shampoo into her hand. As the scent wafted toward the door, she let out a small laugh at the realization that, by all rights and circumstances, Tony DiNozzo had just given her a hickey.

But then a thought hit her, almost like one of the high-speed buses that whipped around street corners in town, and Ziva jumped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. Throwing the door open, she found herself face to face with Tony, looking just as concerned as she felt.

They looked at each other for a while before saying in unison, "We didn't…I mean, we couldn't have…We were so tired…Did we?" Their faces were so serious that they snorted at each other, which led to convulsing laughter.

Ziva finally collected herself enough to choke out, "As if we would have slept together anyway," and returned to her shower, leaving Tony to think about the previous night by himself.

* * *

They had gone upstairs at twelve-fifteen-sharp, both warm and tingly from much wine and (in Tony's case) beer. Satiated by the buffet, with all the delicious hors d'oeuvres (courtesy of Lucy, Nina, and Ziva), and after the events of the evening, they had both been exhausted. Neither had really considered doing anything _but_ sleeping, but being the man Tony was, he had still fallen prey to cuddling. That night had been cold, and very unlike the heat and sunshine of the entire day. Conserving body heat had been a driving force between them.

And there they had lain for eight hours. Well, not really. Tony had never expected Ziva to be a snuggler, yet there he was: arms around Ziva's waist, with her curled into his chest. He had thought he'd heard her whimper at one point and noticeably pressed herself against him more. All he'd had the nerve to do was kiss her on the top of the head. Soon after, he had fallen asleep.

No sex, no romance, no groping, no flirting (more or less…). Just the sound of soft breathing, the kind that accompanies deep sleep.

Tony hadn't even realized he had bitten her in _real_ life. Men have a funny way of waking up. And he hadn't really been awake, either, he bartered with himself. When he had felt Ziva's eyelashes against his skin, he hadn't registered that it was her _eyelashes_. He thought it was a feather, and he had imagined her trailing a hot pink feather along his jaw and down his neck, the fact he couldn't move (in reality from Ziva's weight keeping him anchored to the mattress) was translated into his dream as being cuffed or tied to the bed. The entire thing had caused him to feel very _horny_ for lack of a better word, and had resulted in him biting her shoulder. Dream-Ziva hadn't cared. Real-Ziva had yelped: A very, very, _very_ rude awakening.

Tony felt bad. Really bad. He hadn't really … _meant _to bite her. He hadn't even expected to wake up next to her. Hell, he hadn't even remembered that he was actually _holding_ her. But there he was…and she was…

Tony remembered it all, and he had played along fairly well when he realized she probably would think they'd slept together. So when she hurtled out of the bathroom he knew what she was going to say, and he mirrored her on everything, right down to the mortified expression on her face. Granted, that had stung a little bit; had they done something the previous night, Tony would have at least hoped she wouldn't regret it the next morning.

"Ooh, Ziva," he whispered, picking up his tie (that he had tossed on the floor the previous night) and slinging it into the top drawer. While he was at it, he picked up the velvet box, ran his thumb over the smooth top, and then clenched it in his fist. He was beginning to back out. When she felt another presence in the room, he turned and saw Ziva leaning against the doorframe between the bathroom and the bedroom. He quickly stuffed the box into his pocket and grinned. "Hi."

"Were you talking to me?" she asked, a smirk spreading across her lips. Tony just stood there grinning like a fool, and he knew it.

Shaking his head, he told her, "Nope."

Because he was only _thinking _about her.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****0900 Hours  
****Saturday, December 4, 2010**

"Have you _seen_ him today?" Liat hissed. "He looks so cheerful, so loving!"

"Yeah," came Malachi's gloomy answer. "He looks great. Let us go, Liat. We have work to do." He swept out the front door and to his car, leaving his partner behind to ogle the visiting NCIS agent.

She padded to kitchen doorway and stuck her head through. There was no one else around, and Liat was determined to get her way with him.

Regardless of the toll it took on his friendship with the brown-haired _kalba_. Little did she know…

**

* * *

**

****

The Davíd House, Kitchen  
**0900 Hours  
****Saturday, December 4, 2010**

"So, basically," Tony said around a rather large bite of toast, "Gibbs was thinking of sending us undercover again." He took a bit of delight in the fact that when he said the word 'undercover', Ziva's eyes widened to look like softballs. It just made his view of her chocolaty browns that much easier. He grinned, and then murmured, "I called him about an hour ago. He was up working on his boat again so I figured we could chat…"

Ziva nodded, trying to keep her thoughts under control. "What did he tell you?" She spooned a small bit of oatmeal into her mouth and chased it with a sip of orange juice. Her stomach was in knots. Regardless of what Tony had told her about the previous night, she still feared something had happened. And the part that scared her the most—well, not _worried_, really, but more _concerned_—was that she honestly didn't have a problem with the concept. If she had slept with him, so be it. But why did she feel that way? Why was she so 'okay' with it?

She was so distracted by her inner dilemma that she almost missed him say, "First of all, the situation on the _Seahawk_ is resolved. McGee hacked into the CIA and found out that they'd been following this guy for years because of his past crimes. They nabbed him and he's in custody right now awaiting trial."

"Well, that is good." Ziva took another bite of oatmeal and tried to smile.

"Yeah!" Tony said enthusiastically. "So, that put me in a great mood. So then, of course, we started talking about work and stuff, and he told me about a claim made against a minister in Teays Valley." This piqued her interest and she subconsciously leaned in to hear him. "The guy married this couple—like, he did the pre-nup counseling and everything—and had suggested during that period of time that they honeymoon at a ski resort in Colorado. Four days into the honeymoon, someone broke in and murdered them, right as they were…" He coughed awkwardly and then continued, "Aspen M.E. gave us his report but it's not the first time something like this has happened. Gibbs wants two agents in there pronto, because there's a _whole_ list of couples getting married in the next few months."

Ziva paused mid-sip in drinking her tea and looked at him. "What would our assignment be?" Tony shrugged and took a long gulp of his coffee. "We surely wouldn't be …"

"You know, it wouldn't be the first time we'd have to pretend to be married, Ziva." His eyes twinkled at her and she shivered. She hoped he couldn't see it, but he could—and did. "Anyway," Tony plowed on, trying to save what little dignity Ziva had, "I looked into it. It's a gorgeous ski lodge; great view of the trees, and snowy hillsides and—"

She held up a hand. "I do not wish to discuss this any further. We will talk to Gibbs when we return to the United States." On the outside, Ziva was calm and relatively collected. On the inside, however, she was thrilling. She could tell she was just a big, walking pile of goo. _When __**aren't**__ I when I'm around __**him**__?_ she asked herself.

Tony turned to her and gave her the goofy lopsided grin that always made her knees weak. "Fine, Ziva," he murmured through the grin and, dipping his head to whisper in her ear, added, "Love the new shampoo." A soft blush rose in her cheeks and she turned away to continue eating her oatmeal.

Secretly, he was cheering himself on. If this were any confirmation of how his partner felt about him, he could be certain that by the time he gave her the contents of the blue, velvet box, she would react in such a way that would work for _both_ of them.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****1200 Hours  
****Saturday, December 4, 2010**

"_Tonyyyyy_!" Eliana cheered as she scampered into the living room. She was wide awake and was obviously ready for playtime. Tony turned his head slightly and set the laptop he had borrowed from Eli down on the coffee table. McGee had indeed emailed the video file of _Lamb Chop_, and the timing was perfect: There was Eliana, and there was the video, and no one else was in the house other than Ziva. And since Ziva was on babysitting duty until Nina returned from the market (so that she and Tony could cook that night's meal), they could all watch the movie together.

Tony swooped down and picked Eliana up, swinging her up onto the couch next to him. "Good mo—_Yom Tov_, Eliana." He gently kissed the side of her head and then stood to walk to the kitchen, leaving Eliana behind to watch him, forlorn. "Hey, Zeev, McGee sent me something that we should watch."

"What is it?" Ziva wiped her hands on a dishtowel and crossed the room to him. She was acting a bit cold toward him now that she knew he and Nina would be cooking that night's meal, but wasn't sure whether it was jealousy or something larger. So, instead of focusing on Chanukah, she decided to ask about the new case. "Is it new information from Gibbs?" Tony shook his head and grinned mischievously at her. "Well, then, what is it?"

"_Lamb Chop_," he told her simply before turning slowly and, looking over his shoulder at her, left the room. She was forced to follow, and took a seat on the other side of Eliana, who had shifted herself so she was sitting in the very center of the couch. Tony was on Eliana's right, so Ziva positioned herself on the little girl's left. He hit play and watched as Cheri Lewis twirled and sang around what looked like a marketplace.

_Something to celebrate and to appreciate.  
__Laughter and stories to share.  
__Wondering what gifts you'll get, check that the table's set! So many things to prepare.  
__And when the work is done, welcoming everyone, family and friends gather near.  
__Something to celebrate: Chanukah is here._

In Tony's eyes, the wait for the file was completely worth it; Eliana's glittering brown orbs were trained on the screen with such innocent fascination that he felt his heart warm slightly. He lifted his arm and rested it on the back of the couch, accidentally brushing the arm Ziva had wrapped around Eliana's shoulders. "Oof, sorry," he mumbled softly, twitching away from her. She just bowed her head and half-smiled at him as her heart fluttered madly. Both turned their attention back to the screen.

"_You'll never guess what Cheri got me for Chanukah!_" Charlie Horse squealed, dancing behind his computer desk.

"_Oh, Cheri got you a personality?_" Lamb Chop retorted, breaking into giggles. It became increasingly obvious that Eliana had a strong sense of humor as with every joke she dissolved into munchkin laughter.

Tony gazed at her affectionately. If he could just find the right woman and settle down and have a child as amazing as Eliana, his life would be complete. He could die a happy man. But as far as he could see, he would end up like his father, minus all the failed marriages. He just couldn't imagine getting married, and that scared him. The undercover assignment would be bad enough—not that he wasn't looking forward to going back to work, as fun as Chanukah was, of course—what with pretending—again—to be married. But—again—he would be portraying Ziva's husband, and this both worried and excited him, which in turn worried him, which made him even more anxious. He knew he shouldn't be carrying those types of feelings. He hoped that, come Saturday, he would have all of them sorted out and know what to do about them.

_**Hush Puppy:**  
__Looks like the oil is finally nice and hot.  
__I can almost taste them now, you know I'll eat a lot!  
__There is nothing quite as satisfying as the smell of latkes frying.  
__That is why big or small, young or old, short or tall, everyone…loves potato latkes! _

"Latkes!" Eliana squealed. "Yum, yum, yum!" She turned and looked up at Tony. "Have _you_ ever had potato latkes?" He shook his head. Disappointed, she let out a huff and turned her attention back to the computer screen. By the end of the week, Tony vowed, he would have made latkes.

"_Strength wid'out brains? Why, dat's like having Gilligan wi'dout da Skippah_," Hush Puppy argued, displeased about Charlie Horse's failed attempt at creating the 'perfect' superhero (only succeeding in destroying Cheri's living room).

Tony leaned behind Eliana's head and whispered to Ziva, "Or the Autopsy Gremlin without Ducky…"

She smirked and responded, "Or McGee without Gibbs?"

Raising his eyebrows, Tony suggested, "Hmm, Gibbs without Vance?" Ziva's eyes widened and they both shook their heads. "Nah," he stated, crinkling his nose.

"Who is that?" Eliana points toward the screen.

Ziva bowed her head closer to the little girl's and whispered, "Remember, Eliana? That is Alan Thicke, who bumped into her earlier and made fun of the candles at the market." Eliana nodded and furrowed her eyebrows.

"I hope he gets better," she murmured before tuning both agents out completely.

As Alan Thicke sat in his car, a police officer outside his window insistently tapping on the glass, he spoke to Cheri, apologizing for being so late. Finally, he hung up and realized that he was being ticketed for obstructing traffic. His excuse was, "_Big stars, production deals, you get sidetracked_."

Tony's mouth twitched upward bitterly. "Yeah, talk about a stressful job. I mean, investigating murd—" Eliana looked up at him expectantly and he was forced to cut himself off. "Um…Investigating very, very bad things…it's such a walk in the park."

Ziva turned to him and blinked twice, raising one eyebrow. "As I recall, _you_ are the one who smiled."

Under normal circumstances, Tony would have laughed at her reference to the story he had told her about how he came to be working for NCIS, but seeing as he was still upset over the whole _Seahawk_ ordeal, it was difficult to see any light at the end of the tunnel. "Yeah, well…" he drawled, trailing off and turning his attention to the bodiless head floating around Cheri's living room. "What the…"

"_Good grief_!" Hush Puppy exclaimed, ducking behind Charlie Horse.

"_No, no. It's either good or grief; pick one_," the head corrected with a Poindexter-like British accent. Ziva nodded her head and pointed accusingly at the laptop. "You see?" she demanded. "I told you that the English language was ridiculous! He is completely correct; something cannot be good or aggrieving."

"Ziva," Tony mumbled, "it's just a movie." He stuck his tongue out teasingly and let it dart to lick his upper lip. He didn't even notice that he was doing it until he noticed a faint blush rise in Ziva's face. He turned away quickly and went back to watching the video.

WeaponsMan had just flown onto the screen. The way he was staring at Cheri made Tony emit out a bark of laughter. While Cheri objected to his being there, WeaponsMan leered at her lustfully. "_Well hello cutie-pie! Do I know you from some-vher? Well, vhy don't you and I take a little valk—a little boogie-boogie—down the information super-highvay. Let's party-party-__**party**_…" Tony sat there just cackling.

Ziva stared at him disapprovingly. "Hm, who does _that_ remind me of?" He shrugged innocently and continued to laugh, while she sighed loudly.

When he regained his composure, he retorted with, "Yeah, well, with the number of weapons he's carrying, he reminds _me_ of a male version of a woman I know very well." Grinning widely, he then added, "Hey! This guy's like a combination of all of us! He lives in a computer, like McGee; he has a ton of weapons, like you; he's 'brave', like Gibbs, and he's a ladies'-man like me!" Both Eliana and Ziva turned to stare at him skeptically, which caused him to hang his head a little.

When Cheri came on-screen to introduce the characters of their Chanukah play, she barely got through her description of Judah Maccabee ('Our tall handsome brave strong fearless leader') when Eliana shouted, "Tony!"

"No, honey," Ziva murmured, stroking the small girl's back tenderly, "that is Judah Maccabee. He saved us from King Antiochus!"

Eliana's brow furrowed in confusion. "He saved us?"

"Um…" The former-Israeli glanced nervously at Tony before telling her, "Well, Eliana, without Judah Maccabee, we would still be living under Greek-Syrian rule." As they watched the play, they learned of the struggle of the Judeans to regain control of their temple from the evil King Antiochus, effectively getting the songs stuck in their heads.

**_Charlie Horse:  
_**_People call me Antiochus; I am king!  
__The people of Judea must obey me.  
__No one is allowed to question anything.  
__Death will come to those who would disobey me._

When the play ended, Tony turned to his partner with sadness in his eyes. "Wow…Ziva, that really sucks. I knew that Judaism as a whole has faced some really bad stuff, but I never learned the background of the whole 'Greek' issue…" Ziva merely nodded, because she had nothing to respond with. Eliana bounced on the cushion between them.

"I like this!" she said gleefully, clapping her hands.

"Keep watching, sweetie," Tony murmured, smiling. All three did so and not only learned English Chanukah prayers for lighting the menorah candles. "Oh no," he grunted as Cheri began telling them of the Eight Days of Chanukah song. It was to the tune of the Twelve Days of Christmas, so they were all able to sing along, with the hand signals and everything.

_On the eighth night of Chanukah, what do we do?  
__We gather with our family,  
__give each other presents,  
__get to dance the Horah,  
__eat chocolate gelt,  
__listen to the stories,  
__spin a little dreidel,  
__make potato latkes,  
__light the Samish  
__and another candle too!_

And, surrounded by Ziva and the little girl between them, Tony finally felt like he was with family.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
****1800 Hours  
****Saturday, December 4, 2010**

"Tony," Ziva murmured, holding a dress up to her, "could you come here for a moment? I want you to look at something." Tony obliged, crossing the room to sit on her bed behind where she was standing. Although it was only the fourth day of Chanukah, Tony had already noticed that she was starting to loosen up. However, inside, Ziva was feeling very shy. She wanted to know exactly what he thought of her in the dress, but was still too bashful to ask him outright if he thought she looked 'hot'.

"What do you think, Mister Senior Field Agent extraordinaire? Do you like it?" the Israeli asked hesitantly, though she tried her best to be flirty. She sent him what she thought would be a seductive smile but knew she had failed when she saw Tony smirk and then nod. "Do you like it? Will it look okay?" Her partner nodded again and then walked up to stand directly behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he gently kissed the back of her head and then released her, returning to his prior location of the walk-in closet.

Ziva furrowed her eyebrows and did another pirouette in front of the mirror. "Well, then," she grumbled, flipping her hair over one shoulder, "I guess you will just have to do."

Tony had been leaning against the molding of the doorway into the closet and heard every word. He chuckled to himself, thinking about how great his eighth gift for her would look on her. Well, anything would look good on her. He focused more on the dress she would be wearing that night. It was sleeveless with gold bands around the straps, a moderate dip to the neckline, and a flowy skirt. It was dark purple, but made her eyes stand out and her skin glow. He loved it. She looked amazing, just holding it up to her body.

"Tony, we should probably head downstairs now," Ziva called from the bedroom. "I can already hear Eliana wondering where you've gone." When Tony walked out of the closet, she was struggling with the buckle on her shoe. "Stupid thing anyway…" she growled softly, and he made his way over to her. Kneeling before where she sat, he wordlessly laced the strap through the buckle and pulled it to the correct circumference around her ankle. When he looked up, her expression was a soft mix of gratitude and confusion.

She still handed him the other shoe, murmuring, "Thank you." Tony thought he caught a soft flush to her cheeks that had nothing to do with makeup but said nothing. She had been blushing on and off for the better part of the day and he thought maybe he knew why. Either she was thrilled to have her cousin staying with her, excited to be babysitting an adorable girl as Eliana, or there was something deeper. He was betting on choice 'C'.

Opening the door for his partner, he extended his elbow. Cautiously, Ziva looped her arm through it and together they left the room.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****2000 Hours  
****Saturday, December 4, 2010**

"What…?" Ziva was confused. What was the long plank of wood with those three slots and the same number of holes possibly for? Coming from Tony, she was a little concerned by what could—in any case—potentially be the use. Tony took the plank from her and walked over to the drink table, retrieving two glasses and a bottle of wine. He retook his seat beside her and slipped the neck of the bottle through the center hole. Then, holding onto the bottle and demonstrating how it fit perfectly, he slid the glasses—upside down, with the base on top of the wood—into either hole beside the bottle.

After his demo, Tony explained, "It's a yoke for wine for two. I figured that if you had a…" He stumbled on his words, not wanting to sound jealous but equally not wanting to allude to her family that she was a wanton minx, finally deciding to say, "…'friend' over, you could share wine on your deck without having to make multiple trips." Secretly, he hoped that she would have him over to test the efficiency of the yoke. But he would never tell.

Ziva quirked an eyebrow and then bowed her head. "Thank you," she told him, and took the bottle and glasses from him. After setting them on the coffee table, she handed him a flat, wrapped present. "I trust you," she stated simply, a small smile gracing her lips.

He unwrapped it slowly, not wanting to tear the beautiful ivory and gold paper that adorned it. The colors reminded him of the wallpaper in the Oval Office. Who would ever want to ruin it, after all of the gorgeous remodeling that the room went through? Finally, when he had completely revealed the small, brown book with a silver dove on the front. He read the sentiment to himself before reading it aloud. "_A man travels the world over in search of what he needs, and returns home to find it._" Tony looked up at Ziva with a curious gleam to his eyes, which looked bluer than she had recently seen. "Thank you…" He had no idea what it was, or what it meant.

She drew the book from his hands and flipped through it. "It is an address book, for all of your friends' email addresses and phone numbers." There was a noncommittal pause in which Tony assumed she was referring to those of the women he made contact with. He decided he would use it for other things, like family and close friends, not flippant or trivial passerby.

"Well, again, thank you. It's really nice," he murmured, patting her arm. She flipped over a page that he could have sworn had writing on it. "What was that?" Taking the book, he opened it. It was a page in the 'D' section, and under it was written in feminine script 'Davíd, Ziva'. Beside it was her cell phone number, home phone number, address of her apartment, and then a very small line of words in the corner. Tony looked up at her and she nodded toward it. "What does it mean?" Luckily, most of Ziva's family had long since gone off to give and open their own gifts, and were paying the two very little attention.

"It is something you have wanted for a very long time." Ziva said nothing more but stood and slipped through the crowd of people to find herself a glass of punch. This left Tony to his own devices as far as figuring out what 'addsomal445909' could mean. He was so focused on the puzzle before him that he didn't notice a scantily clad woman seat herself next to him.

"To-nee," she purred, breaking the man in question out of his trance. His eyes snapped to hers. "To-nee, I am _bored_." Tony raised an eyebrow. "I have a game upstairs in my room if you would like to accompany me…"

He shook his head. "Sorry, Liat, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now."

She pouted. "Oh, To-nee…would you not want to be in the middle of _me_?" This caught Tony's attention. Since the Brenda Bittner fiasco, he hadn't had a single one-night-stand for fear that it would either spread on Facebook like wildfire or end in a sad situation for the woman involved. He groaned. "Yes, you have it right…I could make you do that, To-nee."

He rolled his eyes and said, "No. You couldn't, and you won't. I _don't_ want to be in 'the middle of you', do you _not_ understand that, Liat?" Liat's tongue darted out to lick her upper lip. Tony just shook his head. "Liat, I'm sorry—I'm usually not this blunt with women—but you need to back off. This is bordering on the lines of obsession. I'm not interested, and I don't want you to go on thinking I am, because that would only lead to bad things for the both of us." His speech over with, and completely figuring that she would take the more-than-obvious hint that he just dropped, Tony returned to his dissection of the phrase in his brown address book.

Liat smiled. "To-nee?"

He glanced up at her and then back at the page. "Yah?"

She shifted closer to him and he only realized how close she was when he felt her breath on his ear. "I am Liat Tuvia, and what I want, I get. Understood?" Too frustrated to move but getting to the point of throwing her off of him (as horrible of a thing that is to do to a woman), Tony sat completely still while Liat kissed his neck and moved his hand to her thigh. "There, that is much better."

"No, actually," Malachi said, suddenly in front of them, "it is not." He glared down at Tony, who glared at Liat, who in turn stared up at her own partner in disgust. "Mr. DiNozzo, I've tried to play fair, but this time you have gone too far."

Trying to keep the atmosphere light, Tony chuckled and stood to face the angry Israeli man. "Now, Malachi, how many times have I told you? My dad is Mr. DiNozzo; call me Tony!" he said through a grin. His insides were in tangled knots and he was fighting off a nervous shake of the head to rid his mind of all the horrid things Malachi could do to him. _Oh, where's Ziva when you need her…_

Malachi sneered. "You think too highly of yourself, _Mr. DiNozzo_. You are nothing but a slimy toad." Tony had to bite back a laugh at the absurdity of the other man's name-calling, but it didn't get him very far as a fist made contact with his eye. "Keep your distance and we will have no more problems. Come along, Liat." She stood, and if Tony could have seen her he would have assumed it had only been out of fear that she followed her partner. Aunt Lucy hobbled over and after '_tsk-tsk_'-ing him, called in Hebrew for someone to bring him an ice-pack.

"Tony?" Ziva's soft, concerned voice said over the crowd. He looked out of his good eye at her. In her petite hands she held a bag of ice. "What happened?"

He laughed. "Bit obvious, isn't it?" Taking the bag of ice from her, he turned his face so that she could see if there was a bruise or not. He interpreted her gasp as a sign that there was. "Is it bad?"

"A little."

Little did Tony know that soon after they went upstairs and settled in for the night, Ziva waited until Tony fell asleep to sneak downstairs, get in her car and drive to Liat's apartment to tell both her and Malachi that they were no longer welcome at her home.


	6. Day Five

_A/N: First of all, I'd like to apologise for the horrible delay. I really am so sorry. I had finals and papers and projects and life got away from me for the holidays. I made it up to you with what I hope is a good chapter...Can I just say, though, that I'm not really a fan of the Christmas-themed episode? I..um..Well, I loved the plot. __**Spoiler alert NOW:**__ The whole Brenda Bittner bit was fantastic, though, because I really think it added something. I had heard of a spoiler from that episode saying Michael Weatherly was telling all Tiva fans that they should watch that night. I was very pleased. "That is why...we love you." __**::kisses fingertips:: **__Mwa! Amore! Sorry. A bittttt too cheerful this morning. Go ahead and read. I'll wait. __**::smiles::**__ -Kathryn._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own __**Lamb Chop**__; the plot, characters, or actors from __**Will or Jane Eyre. **__Also, I'm not a doctor but I did do research about herbs, and also about blood loss. Percentage and volume, not necessarily pints (since we're all different). Mmkkkk. I'm good now!_

* * *

**The Davíd House, Kitchen  
****0030 Hours  
****Sunday, December 5, 2010**

"Ow," Tony groaned, pressing a steak into the upper right quadrant of his face. "You sure this'll help, Nina?" The Israeli woman nodded and poured steaming water through a strainer that held herbs into a small teacup. "What's this?"

"Chamomile and turmeric. It will help you sleep, and heal your black eye." Nina took the steak from him held out the cup, watching as he smelled it. It was putrid, in his opinion, and she stared him down until he took it in one gulp. "Now go sleep." She was so maternal that Tony already felt extremely comfortable around her.

On his way out of the kitchen, he turned and said softly, "Thank you…" She bowed her head and walked over to the trash bin dedicated to meat products. Tony padded across the parlor, only stopping when he heard keys jingling on the other side of the door. He crept behind the banister and hid, preparing himself for an arm-to-arm battle. When the door opened a crack and a slim figure slipped through it, he knew he had nothing to worry about, though. Before him stood Ziva, still in her pajamas. "Zeev?" he asked blearily.

Although Tony had expected to have caught her in some sort of rebellious act reminiscent of his teenage years, Ziva had another thing planned for him. She simply told him, "I had business to take care of."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Yeah? Where could you possibly have business at midnight?" When she didn't answer, Tony took a wild guess. "Have to do with a woman named Liat?" She shrugged and attempted to push past him. "No," he said, stopping his partner before she could go upstairs, "what's going on?"

After a loud sigh, Ziva finally spoke. "I do not know what happened tonight that caused Malachi to attack you, but I was fairly certain it had to do with _her_."

"Would you believe me if I told you what his motive was?" Tony asked, placing a gentle hand on her arm and leading her to the couch. She nodded. "Liat's been paying me a lot of attention lately, and while I'm flattered she finds me worth such advances, I'm simply not interested." Ziva rolled her eyes at this and he quickly defended himself. "No, no, really! I've told her several times that I don't want to have anything with her. She just won't leave me alone, and that's what happened tonight."

She looked at him curiously before slowly asking, "How does this relate to Malachi punching you?"

Tony took his time with answering. "I think Malachi likes Liat." His partner let out a bark of laughter and he silenced her with putting his hand on hers. "No, Ziva, really. I mean, he told me they've slept together before. It wouldn't surprise me; partners sometimes do that to let off steam." He hadn't meant for it to sound like that—he knew it was a sensitive topic after what happened when they had gone undercover for the first time—and hoped that she wouldn't take it the wrong way. "I think he actually has feelings for her, and he knows my reputation…"

"So," Ziva murmured, "he put two and four together."

Furrowing his eyebrows, he winced in pain but still corrected, "Two and two, not two and four."

"Same difference." She waved his comment away and thought for a moment. "You actually think that he has a chance, though? Or, do you think that _he_ believes he has a chance? He assaulted you. There is no excuse for that, especially on Chanukah."

Tony shrugged. "Sometimes, Ziva," he told her, "things are inevitable. Anyway, what did you end up doing at Liat's?"

She shot him a pixie-like smirk. "You will not be seeing her for a while." Tony's good eye widened considerably.

"Ziva!" he hissed. "You didn't kill her, did you?" Confusion graced Ziva's features for a moment before being replaced by incredulity.

"You think I would kill her over Chanukah?" she asked. "If Malachi is not supposed to punch you, murder is ten times as bad. No, I did not kill her. I told her she is no longer welcome here for the holiday, and then left." Tony knew there was much more to the story but that getting it out of her would be like pulling teeth. Instead, he nodded and stood, extending his arm to her. She took it for the second time that evening and let him lead her up the stairs to her bedroom, where they both collapsed on her bed and didn't rouse themselves for another ten hours.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Den  
****0800 Hours  
****Sunday, December 5, 2010**

Eli narrowed his eyes behind his desk, staring at his daughter with a mixture of disappointment and anger. Liat had just called him, venting about Ziva's visit the previous night. And Eli was not pleased. "Before we discuss why you decided to drive to Liat's house around midnight last night, would you like to tell me your perspective of what happened during the party?" he asked, his voice in a precarious tone of calmness.

Ziva gazed back at her father in mock-innocence. "I don't know what you mean, Father."

Angrily, he said, "She is my agent. As your father, I am ordering you to tell me why you decided to take matters into your own hands." His eyes sparkled dangerously and she felt her nostrils flare. "Ziva, it is not your responsibility or right to tell guests in _my_ home to—"

"Oh," Ziva blurted, standing, "so it is _your_ home now? Simply because I moved to America, took my Naturalization courses, and am no longer a legal Israelite, I have no rights in my childhood home?" She glared at him openly, throwing an arm out and shouting, "Liat may be your agent, but she is not _my_ friend by any means. I think I should have a sa—No, I _know_ that I have a say in who does or does not stay under this roof."

Eli watched her curiously but said nothing. "You have no idea what she has repeatedly done to deserve this, nor is it your business, but I am _handling_ it," Ziva declared.

"Tell me, then, Ziva, and I too will handle it." He had a softness to his eyes that Ziva had fallen prey to before and fell for again now.

Taking a shaky breath, she nodded and began, "Over the past few days, Liat has repeatedly tried to seduce Tony—"

"Ziva, Ziva," Eli sang. "This is all out of jealousy?" Ziva's eyes widened and she stared incredulously at her father, shaking her head fervently. "Then _what_?"

Fed up, she cried, "_Tony does not want her._ He has told her several times and yet this—this—" Ziva struggled with her words. "—_woman_ is forcing herself on him. Malachi assaulted him under the wrong impression that Tony was making advances toward Liat, but Tony did not _do_ anything. Other than tell her to stop embarrassing herself, of course, and—"

Her father shook his head, a low chuckle erupting from his belly. "Okay, Ziva, alright. I see what is happening." Ziva let out a sigh of relief. "Contact Liat and retract your statements against her."

Letting her jaw drop, she stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Eli nodded gravely. "Yes, Ziva, I am. Go, now." Ziva knew that this was his dismissal of her presence, so she stood silently and left the room.

But this was far from over.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Kitchen  
****1200 Hours  
****Sunday, December 5, 2010**

"Have you spoken with Liat yet?" Eli asked Ziva, walking into the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

She took a deep breath and stated firmly, "No."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "No?"

Ziva wiped her hands on a dishtowel and threw it onto the counter. "Exactly. She assaulted my partner, Father, and I do not feel that she should be welcome here. I explained the situation earlier. Please do not make me explain it again." She stared him down but said nothing more. A heavy silence fell on them, thick enough that it made Ziva very tense and broke a sweat on Eli's brow.

Finally, he set his mug down on the granite countertop and gave her a steely glare. "Ziva Sarai Davíd." Ziva bit the inside of her cheek but still stood there glowering back at her father. "I told you to apologize to Liat and you disobeyed me."

Letting out a snort, she stated, "I am twenty-nine, and am now an American. I no longer live here. I am no longer part of Mossad. You have little control over me." This obviously fazed her father little, and Ziva decided to pull out the 'big guns'. "If this is going to cause the rest of Chanukah to be unpleasant for you, I will gladly leave. However, if you force me to take back my words to Liat, I can promise you that not only will I leave, but you will not hear from me again." She stared at him, watching his expression go from stern to incredulous.

"You could not estrange yourself from your family…"

Ziva shook her head. "Actually, I could. You have always told me to follow my heart and to never back down, and now when I do so, you ask me to do something that goes against my very core."

"We are all you have!" Eli argued, staring at his daughter with very dark hazel eyes. "If you disenchant yourself from us, you will have no one." Ziva found it sad that he actually believed his words.

She stared at him. "You are wrong."

"Excuse me?" A series of things happened at that moment. First, Tony walked in, pretending to not have heard what had transpired between Ziva and her father, even though he had been listening in. Then, the timer went off for Ziva's pita chips that he had placed in the oven shortly before Eli had confronted her. Distracted, Ziva had grabbed the pan without realizing her hand was not protected, dropping it and then clutching her rapidly swelling palm. Tony crossed the kitchen see if she was burned and Eli had stormed out of the kitchen, leaving his upset daughter cradled in the arms of her partner.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
****1400 Hours  
****Sunday, December 5, 2010**

"Tony?" Ziva asked timidly, standing in the doorway of her bedroom. He looked up from the screen of his cell phone and broke into a content—albeit sad—smile. "Are you busy?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Just texting Abby." Tossing his phone onto the seat beside him, Tony stood and hooked his thumbs through the belt-loops of his jeans awkwardly. "How's the hand?" he asked, gesturing to Ziva's bandaged palm.

Ziva glanced down at it and winced. "It hurts a bit, but I am sure everything will be okay."

"Are we still talkin' about your burn?" Tony joked, walking over to her. Ziva refused to meet his eyes. "Hey, Ziva, look at me." When she didn't, he placed his finger beneath her chin and gently lifted her face. "Much better. So, what's going on?" His heart ached when she blinked away tears.

"Nothing. Everything is fine." Tony didn't believe her and his face reflected that. "Really."

"Promise?" he asked, running his finger along her jaw, in a way trying to comfort her.

"No." Ziva took a very long, shaky breath and pressed her eyes shut. A traitor tear fell down her cheek and it took all of Tony's will to not wipe it away with his thumb. He had seen her this way twice; the first time was when he found her in Somalia, and the other was when he comforted her whilst her father was in town. And now, of course, so he changed that to three times.

Watching her, Tony thought of how much he could sympathize, with a careless father and demanding lifestyle at home. Ziva had finally found a new life in America for herself, with her dream job and a great apartment, friends, and apparently even a new romance in Miami…which sucked for him, but hopefully by the end of the holiday, maybe the situation would have been changed.

With this thought running through his brain, he fell to temptation and ran his thumb over Ziva's cheek, whisking the tears away. She opened her eyes slightly and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"You know, Zeev…" Tony murmured. "…you _do_ have family outside of Israel…" She stared into his eyes with melted chocolate eyes. "Gibbs looks at you like a daughter, Ducky like a granddaughter, Abby as a sister." When Ziva said nothing but blinked at him again, he added, "I'd consider McGee a brother but Palmer is definitely the creepy cousin no one wants to share the couch with on Christmas." This earned him an amused smile from Ziva and an enormous hug. Or, rather, Ziva melting into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. He mimicked her pose and held her even closer, gently rocking her in his arms. No one said anything for a while until there was an audible snort from Ziva.

"What does that make you?" she mumbled into his left pectoral.

Tony was grateful that Ziva couldn't see his face, his eyes wide and his expression strained. "Uh…I dunno, you've called me a 'big brother' before, but that makes the flirting a little awkward, don't you think?"

"Flirting?" she asked, not moving. In truth, she was afraid to because she knew he would see the agreement in the blush of her cheeks.

"Would you prefer to call it 'bickering'? Because it…um…could be that, too."

Ziva shook her head into his chest and Tony felt his heart warm. "No," she said, though it was muffled, "that is okay."

So 'flirting' it remained. And Tony planned to do a lot of it, now that he knew the action was mutual.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****1600 Hours  
****Sunday, December 5, 2010**

"Baby," a woman crooned on television, "Baby, you're so warm." She took in a breath through her teeth. "Oh, God, I want you…"

Tony felt Ziva tense next to him and saw her hand twitch toward the remote. "You want me to change the channel, Zeev?" he asked, chuckling. "I didn't know that this stuff was even allowed to be broadcasted here."

It was Ziva's turn to chuckle as she nodded for him to channel-surf. "You would be surprised what is aired in Tel Aviv." The channel landed on a movie with … _That woman from __**Will & Grace**__. Oh, what was her name?_

"Ah, Debra Messing and Dermot Mulroney. Epic chick-flick. Just sayin'," Tony saved her. Ziva hung her head, sighed, and then got up. "Oh, chick-flicks not your thing? Mine neither. I can change i—Or you can just walk away. That's cool too." She paused in the doorway and looked back at him.

"You need some tea for your eye," she explained simply before disappearing into the kitchen. In her absence, Nina emerged from upstairs looking rather forlorn and Tony invited her to sit and talk. Although he had never been too comfortable or familiar with the complexity of female emotions, but he figured that if he wanted to make any of this work, he would have to try.

"You okay?" he asked, pressing the power button and turning the television off. "You look kinda…down."

Nina shrugged. "I do not know, Tony. I am sad but also happy. I know I am blessed." At Tony's quizzical expression, she sighed and went on, "A year and a half ago, my husband, Adam…" Biting back a sob, she paused for a moment before finishing. "…was attacked and assassinated." Tony gasped. He had known she was a widow, but he hadn't known the specifics.

"Wow…I—"

She held up a hand to stop him from speaking. "You are one of the first I have discussed this with. I need this, but I do not want to be a burden. I can talk to Ziva if you feel this is too much of a cross to bear." Tony quirked an eyebrow at the reference to the Gospel story of Jesus' persecution, but said nothing. He figured she knew what she was talking about. He gestured for her to continue. Nina took a deep breath and inclined her head to stare down at her hands.

Slowly she began, "It was while Ziva was sent away by Dod Eli, and Adam was—luckily!—allowed to stay here for a while between his Mossad assignments. He decided one morning to take Eliana to the park. Adam was nervous for some reason that morning and had been for a few weeks prior…"

Tony nodded to express his condolence.

"He kissed me goodbye and took Eliana by the hand. When they got to the park, he felt they were being watched, so he moved to a different part of the park, nearer to the bathrooms and swing-set. He still felt they were being followed, and turned to look. He was shot at, as was Eliana." Tony's breath hitched in his chest at hearing that Eliana had been targeted. "Adam told her to go into the bathroom and stay there. He knew they were not trying to kill her, but only him."

"Did she?"

Nina nodded and went on, "While she was gone, the men tortured Adam and then killed him. Eliana…was all alone. She almost died, Tony."

"How?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"Eliana," she murmured, "had been hit. A bullet had lodged itself in her upper shoulder, but she always had a distinct inability to feel pain, both emotional and physical. She did not feel it and only knew that she was bleeding. Soon, she lost so much blood that she passed out." Nina let out a gasp that Tony thought sounded much like a sob. "When we had not heard from Adam, we went to the park. Eli found her." She sniffled. "The doctors said that we are lucky she is still alive. She lost at least seventy percent of her blood by the time we had her to the hospital, but the nurses and doctors were…efficient. I owe them _everything_."

Tony was having a difficult time picturing Eliana near death. She was always so full of life, he noticed, and had a huge smile on her face most times he saw her. To even try to imagine her pale, unconscious, and on the brink of eternal sleep was almost impossible and he decided he did not really want to try to picture it at all.

Instead, he took Nina's hand and reassured, "You _are _lucky, Nina. Your daughter is bright, loving, and has an amazing personality, and honestly? She makes me want children of my own someday."

The Israeli woman smiled kindly. "Thank you, Tony. The pain and fear lessens everyday. Eliana has long since forgotten the incident at the park, but the emotional effect it has had on her has only grown worse." Tony sensed that this wasn't the end of her sentence. "Actually, I was surprised she took to you so well, but you should be flattered."

"Why?" he asked, but not about why she was surprised Eliana approved of him.

"Because since her father never came home, she has refused to talk to men altogether. I have male-friends. Mr. Rivkin had been one of them, but after he …" Tony swallowed hard as Nina bowed her head in reverence. "He never came home, but Eliana never liked him even when her father was alive. She … she just does not trust easily, you know? And that worried me for a while, but she clings to you. There is much to be said for that."

Tony felt his cheeks flush. "Well, I wouldn't be so sure of that…"

"Have you considered your future, Tony?" Nina asked softly. "Marriage? Children?"

He shrugged. "Oh, um…I guess I've never really thought about it." Lies. He thought about it every day, sitting behind his desk, watching Ziva sit behind her own, lips pursed in concentration and eyes flitting over words on her computer screen. She looked so beautiful, so perfect. He wanted her. Wife, girlfriend, fiancé, whatever. All he knew was that it was _her _that he wanted so badly. No one else. But how was a man supposed to let her know that? Tony ran a hand through his hair. "I guess someday."

Nina squeezed his hand. "You were thinking about someone. Who?"

"That obvious?" he chuckled, his eyes flashing jokingly.

Lucy hobbled into the house at that moment and, after her eyes set on Tony and Nina sitting closely on the couch holding hands. She was _not_ pleased.

"No!" she shouted. "No, no, no! Move!" The younger man and woman jumped away from each other and Tony worried for a moment that he was going to get hit by Ziva's aunt.

"_Ima_," Nina said, standing, "_Day!_ Tony and I were just talk—" Lucy let out a long string of Hebrew syllables and realization crossed over her mother's face. "_Be'emet_?" she returned, to which Aunt Lucy nodded once, but vehemently. "Ah, s_of kol sof_!" Again, Lucy tipped her head, and then walked away.

Tony had no idea what the conversation had been about, but he imagined it would prove to be very interesting.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
****2000 Hours  
****Sunday, December 5, 2010**

"I don't want to go," Ziva said plainly. "What more is there to not understand?"

Tony ignored her idiom faux pas and murmured, "Come on, Zeev. It'll be fun. And besides, Eliana is helping with the blessing of the candles tonight! Don't you want to see that?"

She shook her head. Tony spent a good fifteen minutes trying to convince her to go downstairs with him (which was uncommon for him, because usually when he was trying to convince a woman to go somewhere with him it was typically the upstairs he was more concerned with) and finally went by himself, unable to persuade her to join him. He would just have to give her his gift later.

He watched Nina and Eliana bless the candles, successfully reminded of _Lamb Chop's Special Chanukah_ again. Around eight-thirty he carried a plate of food up to Ziva, making sure to take extra baklava and baba ganoush to appease the angry former-Israeli.

"Thank you," she told him tersely and set the plate on her belly, as she was lying flat on the bed. "Are there a lot of people?" Tony raised his eyebrows. "Not that I care. Just curious…"

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. "Yup. But no sight of anyone you'd care about."

"That isn't true," Ziva snapped, sitting up. Her eyes glittered.

"Isn't it?" Tony glanced at his watch. "I think I'll only be down there for another half-hour or so, then I'll be back. Gotta give Eliana her present." It was actually just a pink DVD of _Lamb Chop_, but he knew the little girl would watch it endlessly. Ziva nodded and took a bite of baklava. "See you soon," he said before disappearing through the doorway.

When he returned—true to his word, thirty-two minutes later—Tony noticed Ziva wasn't in her bedroom. He listened carefully but couldn't hear running water, so he knew she wasn't in the shower. He thought perhaps she was in the bathtub and knocked on the bathroom door, but there was no answer. Swinging it open, he saw that it was empty. _Hm…_

"Uh…Zeev-ah?" he called softly, perching on the bed. Soon after, the closet door slid open from the inside and out popped Ziva's head. "Oh. Hi." Watching her, Tony laughed. "You spend a lot of time in there?"

"I do not hide in the closet. That is, as you have said before I think, McGee's personal life, not mine," she huffed, looking up at him. "Hello. Was the party fun?" Tony nodded. "Good. Let me get your present."

Tony watched her walk over to her luggage and then chuckled. "So, why _do_ you sit in your closet?" he asked, swinging his legs up onto the bed.

Ziva did not answer for a moment but turned around and tossed him a box that sounded hollow when he caught it. Then, she murmured, "I have always found it a place of solace. No one could find me there. I would go there to read, or think, or hide." Tony smirked. He had a space under the stairs of his childhood summer-home in the Hamptons. He knew exactly what she meant and watched as she sat on the chaise lounge in the corner. He handed her the gift and watched her eyes grow wide as she slipped the wrapping paper off the end of its contents. "Tony…"

"The original _Penguin_ classic," Tony pointed out, watching her hand move over the navy-with-red-flowers hardcover. "Now you have something to read in your closet," he joked. His partner stared down at the book with reminiscence heavy on her features. "Hey, I guess I should probably open mine, huh?" He tugged on the wrapping paper and revealed a small tin-box football game. "How'd you know I liked—"

Ziva cut him off by saying matter-of-factly, "McGee told me." She looked up at him. "Thank you."

"Yeah…thank you, too." _It's now or never._ "Zeev?" He crossed over to her and stood before the lounge, taking her hands. "Um, there's something I've been—"

"Ziva." Eli stood in the doorway, glaring. "I need to talk to you. Please come with me." She cast her partner an angry look—not necessarily directed at him—and followed her father downstairs, leaving Tony alone.

This would not go well.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
****2200 Hours  
****Sunday, December 5, 2010**

"What'd he say?" Tony asked, placing a hand on the small of her back as she sat beside him on the chaise. He had stayed in the bedroom during her meeting with Eli, waiting for her return. 'Old Tony' still held that theory that women needed a shoulder to cry on sometimes and 'New Tony' was willing to offer it to her, regardless of the tears.

Ziva didn't answer him for a long time and Tony did not push. Finally, she looked down at her twisted hands in her lap and slowly said, "Are you going to visit your father for Christmas?"

He hadn't considered it, but that was for several reasons. The first was that he didn't really want to go see him. Tony _did_ want to see Anthony DiNozzo, Sr., but he remembered Christmases in the past where his father would either forget a gift or would give him something he couldn't possible use. A crystal box from Uruguay. Satin slippers from China. Then, lately, sourdough pretzel nuggets or a jar or peanut butter. Anything from around the house. It wasn't that Tony wasn't…_grateful_ for these gifts, nor was it that he even wanted a gift from him. It was just that his father would never admit that he had financial problems. Never would he let Tony help him. And that bugged him.

The fighting never ceased when Tony went to visit his father, especially around the holidays. Perhaps it was the incessant reminder that Margaret Paddington—Tony's mother, his father's wife—would never again join them for Christmas that made everything so simply _bad_. Or maybe no one wanted to be around Tony. Who knew, who cared?

So he just said, "No."

Ziva nodded. Of course he wouldn't go to his father. Fathers were stupid and careless. Fathers didn't love. Fathers bred hate and resentment. Fathers were control freaks.

And Ziva would never admit it, but she wanted to go home.

_

* * *

_

_A/N: Got __**Dark Angel**__ on DVD for Christmas. Both seasons. My new Favorite TV Show Lineup is as follows: NCIS, Dark Angel, The Mentalist, Law & Order: SVU, and um…Hm….well, I guess I don't have a Top 5. Umm, also, I got the NCIS Board Game, so I might have to steal some of the crimes and suspect names. None of the plot twists. That would ruin the game! Anyway, over`n out. Love, Kat_

**Translations!**

_Dod. _(Uncle. Pronounced: Doh'd.)

_Ima_. (Mom. Pronounced: Ee-ma.)

_Day!_ (Enough!)

_Be'emet? _(Really?)

_Sof kol sof! _(Finally)


	7. Day Six

__

A/N: Hey, y'all! How's ya doing? Okay, so, this was started this _**morning**__ and somehow I managed to finish it in only about twelve hours. I hope you love it as much as I do (because I really do love it, haha). We're comin' to a close here. Only two more nights now!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own __**Dark Angel**__, although I really do love Logan Cale…but that's not even in this chapter, so whatever. Also, dearies, I do not own pumpkins, apple juice, or the "Floor Is Lava" game (although I have played it very often!). And one cannot forget that I, __**inspira chaos**__, do not own __**Dizengoff Shopping Center**__. That's in Tel Aviv, kinda. But anyway, I don't own it or any of the stores from it that I may have mentioned (although I would love to own some clothes from some of them…I love online shopping! Hahah.) Okay, read! __**::smilies and hugs and kisses::**_

_ Love, Kathryn_

_

* * *

_

**The Davíd House, Garden  
****0900 Hours  
****Monday, December 6, 2010**

The wind tickled Tony's neck as hair brushed up against it, the scent of flowers wafting through his nostrils, the sun beaming warmth down onto his face. He was completely content, and not for the first time that week. Softly, a voice crooned, "Tony? Tony, wake up."

His eyes cracked open and he saw Eliana standing over him, her wide, brown eyes full of fear. "Hey, pumpkin." He eased himself up onto one elbow and tapped her chin with his index finger. She crinkled her nose and stared at him. "What's wrong?"

Eliana screwed up her face in confusion. "I am not a pumpkin…"

Tony let out a chuckle. _Just like her cousin, huh?_ "No, that's just a … a … term of endearment, Eliana. I know you're not really a pumpkin." The little girl grinned. "I was just—um—being silly."

"Oh," Eliana murmured. She looked down at him for a while before jumping up and down. "Thank you for my movie, Tony!" He smiled. He'd known she'd love it. "Did you like my gift?" It had been a small bag of gelt and a Chanukah card with a picture of her in an oversized kimono.

"I loved your gift, Eliana. I have the picture with me right now." He reached up and tweaked her nose. She giggled and batted his hand away playfully, and he pushed himself up onto his knees and then his feet, grabbing her around the waist and swinging her up to cradle her in his arms. "Have you seen Ziva this morning?" The little girl shook her head. "Would you like to go help me find her?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she cheered, and Tony carried her into the house on his hip, letting her play with his collar and the small chain that he had around his neck —even though at one point he gently tugged it from her grasp when she was playing with it a bit too roughly—the entire way. "Ziva!" Eliana called, twisting her head around to look in all directions. "Ziva, where are you?"

Tony walked into the kitchen, still holding Eliana, but didn't find Ziva there. He thought maybe she was hiding in her closet, buried under her musty old clothes and persistent memories, deep in the recesses of both the walls and her mind. Or perhaps she had gone somewhere with Lucy or Nina. Anything to get away from Eli, he knew.

"Well, I don't think she's here, Princess," Tony said, shifting Eliana's weight so she wasn't pulling so much on his back. "I think we need to throw in the towel."

Again she gazed at him in confusion. "I am not holding a towel…neither are you."

Tony smirked. It was like training Probationary Agent Ziva Davíd all over again, but when she was simply a Liaison Officer. "'To 'throw in the towel' is a phrase used to say 'give up'," he explained kindly. "Since Ziva's not here, we'd might as well stop looking. Do you understand?" Eliana nodded but then made a face. "What's wrong?"

"I'm thirsty."

Tony grinned playfully. "Well, hey, let's get the Princess some juice! Let's go!"

"Don't step on the brown tiles!" Eliana squealed.

"They're lava, right?" She nodded and he carefully tiptoed from white tile to white tile, although they were half the size of his shiny, brown Italian leather shoe, toward the refrigerator. "These ones are okay, though, because we're on land!" Eliana again nodded, staring at him with big, brown, doe eyes , and he opened the refrigerator door to retrieve the bottle of apple juice from the third shelf. She procured her sippy cup from behind his back and Tony poured her half a cup of juice, filling the rest with water and snapping the top back onto the cup. He offered it to Eliana, who thanked him and took a sip gratefully.

There was silence while Tony looked over the pictures, articles, and papers held to the refrigerator by colorful glass magnets. Finally, Eliana started playing with his hair and cooed, "Tony, why don't you have a life?" His face snapped to look at her.

"Excuse me?" Tony chuckled. She had no idea how closely she'd hit the nail on the head. "I have a life."

"You do?"

"Well, I'm alive, aren't I?" he joked. "Anyway, what did you mean?" Taking her small hand between his thumb and first two fingers, he danced with her around the island.

"No, not a life. A _life_!" she giggled. Tony furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Like, Ziva. Why don't you have a life?"

Realization struck him. "Oh. A _wife_." Eliana bobbed her head insistently, convinced that was what she'd been saying all along. "My princess just hasn't found her Prince Charming yet."

Her eyes widened like saucers. "You're a prince?" she whispered, astounded.

"Uh. No, but …" Tony didn't really know how to get out of it, now that he had dug himself a hole. "Yeah. I'm a prince."

"_Sababa_!" she cried, grinning. "Who is your princess?"

He swallowed hard. "Uh … I don't know yet. I haven't found her."

"Do you ride horses?" Eliana patted Tony's shoulder and chest. "Do you have a white horse? Do you have a sword? What about a cat?"

What a cat had to do with it he wasn't sure, but he laughed anyway and shook his head. "Nope. I have a badge, though." He hadn't brought it with him, so he hoped she'd take his word for it.

"But you don't have a life."

"Wife."

"Life."

Tony gave up and let her say it whatever way she wanted, since she was only five and probably couldn't pronounce her double-you's. Instead, he shook his head and smiled. "No, I don't have a wife. But that's okay. I'm only thirty-nine. I've got time."

Eliana sent him a grave look. "When are you going to get a life?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, Eliana."

"Ziva's nice," the small girl said matter-of-factly. "Ziva is nice and pretty and she smells good and she cooks yummy food and—"

Tony could see where this was going and stopped her. "Yes. Ziva is nice and cooks very well. What does that have to do with me getting married?"

It took Eliana a moment to respond. "Would Ziva make a good life?"

He was silent for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, to the right guy." _Wish that were me_, he thought.

"You should make Ziva your life."

_But she already is, Eliana._

* * *

**The Davíd House, Dizengoff Shopping Center (Mall)  
****1400 Hours  
****Monday, December 6, 2010**

"Do you think that Nina would like this, _Doda_ Lucy?" Ziva asked, holding up a cashmere cardigan sweater. She spoke in Hebrew, making conversation with her elderly, traditional aunt much easier.

Lucy nodded, but jerked her head in the direction of the stairs. "Yes, but the store you really want is back there." Ziva quirked an eyebrow but said nothing and held up another sweater. "Ziva," she murmured suddenly, "You are nearly thirty. Have you considered slowing down? Settling yourself and finding a man to marry and start a family with?"

Sadness flashed across her niece's eyes before it was replaced by a sea of calm. "Of course I have considered it." _Not that I can do anything about it right now._

"You are such a pretty girl. You always have been and obviously always will be. Men should be falling over themselves to be with you," Lucy persisted. _No, Aunt Lucy, they are going to warzones to get themselves killed for me,_ Ziva thought to herself, holding up another sweater. "That one would go well with her eyes," she interjected before continuing, " Your clock is ticking, Zee-vah. You need to find someone to spend your life with. I am a _Shidduch_; trust me to find you someone."

"_Doda _Lucy, I …" Ziva couldn't very well say that she already had someone, because news would get back to Tony and then he would surely hound her for weeks about the person's identity. She didn't have the time to fabricate a story about someone again, and she had worn the 'Friend From Miami' story very thin lately. Finally she decided to say, "I am not ready to date yet. My heart still aches from Michael."

"Or is it aching_ for_ him?" her aunt probed, looking around.

Ziva shook her head. "What? No. I am not in love with Michael still. I have moved on. I am just waiting for the right man to find me instead of going out and getting myself in trouble." _Or fired._

Lucy just clucked and stared her niece down. "We should go to a different store, Zee-vah."

"Why?" the younger woman asked nonchalantly. "HDL is fine…Oh, look, what a pretty scarf!" Lucy followed her over to a display table and clucked internally as she watched her niece play with the black lace scarf.

"Lace is for the bedroom. Let us go pay for the sweater for Nina and then go somewhere else." Ziva agreed, paid for the sweater, and began walking toward MANGO, but Lucy grabbed her elbow and steered her in the other direction. "We are going to Woman's Secret, Ziva. Do not argue."

Ziva stared at Lucy in a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and a hint of disgust. "_Doda_ Lucy…?"

"I need panties," the elderly woman said plainly, and Ziva fought off a shudder. "Come on." Ziva didn't have a choice but to follow. When they arrived in front of Woman's Secret, she noticed that she would have to walk by displays of men and women (apparently couples) entwined with each other, the posters possibly reminiscent of wedding nights, anniversaries, or romantic evenings.

She had to fight off another shudder, but this time it was more of a shiver. Because for a split second, images of a shirtless Tony, staring down at her as the men in the posters were staring at their partners, ran across her mind.

Lucy stopped in front of a mannequin that was wearing a hunter green, sequined satin negligee. "I think this would look nice on you."

"What?" Ziva blurted. "_Doda_ Lucy! That…I do not want to talk about—"

The older woman just grinned and shrugged her shoulders innocently. "Who's talking, Zee-vah?" And then she disappeared around the corner in her pursuit of proper-fitting panties.

And Ziva just wanted to call Tony and vent. But she knew she couldn't. That would allow him to … to think about her. That would encourage his advances. That would be admitting that she held him in high regard in her personal life…All of which was welcomed in her mind but when she thought about it actually happening, it made her uncomfortable. She wanted him. She wanted him a lot. Very badly. But nothing could happen. Because that damned Rule Number Twelve was an unvoiced threat hung over their heads like the proverbial carrot, where Gibbs was the puppet master and his employees were his playthings.

She resented it, but she also thanked Judah Maccabee that it meant she would never have to go out on a limb and then get hurt. Maybe Tony didn't feel the same way about her that she felt about him. Maybe, just maybe, she was imagining it all. And therefore, going out on that notorious 'limb' would only end in Ziva's heart getting broken again. It had been bad enough before, with Michael. The breakup sex had been wonderful and then she had told him to get out. If she had been the one to find Rivkin in her apartment, she would have attacked him herself. Maybe she resented the fact that Tony had gotten there first? Maybe she was jealous that Tony was a better boyfriend than Michael had been, without even _being_ a boyfriend.

_Damn it all!_ Ziva admonished herself. Squaring her shoulders, she grabbed the hanger of the hunter green satin that was staring her down from its stationary rack and stalked to the dressing rooms. She didn't know it, but Lucy had watched her every move, and was itching to go home and tell Eli of her findings.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Study  
****1600 Hours  
****Monday, December 6, 2010**

"Eli!" Lucy wheezed, propelling herself as fast as she could through the door of her brother-in-law's study and into the seat in front of the desk. "Eli! I must talk to you. It is urgent." She kept her Israeli tones hushed, but she was about to burst—both from the labor of running up all of those stairs and from the news she was about to tell.

Eli looked up from the newspaper he held in his hands and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose to look at her clearer. His eyebrows were raised bemusedly, a sign that he was in a relatively good mood, or at least that was what he was intending to project. "Lucy, what is it that has you so excited?"

Lucy took a deep breath and quickly launched into her retelling of the events at the mall. "She is single and waiting for her majestic prince to come and save her!"

"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy…" Eli murmured sadly. "You have lost your touch. You were always so nosy; how have you not heard of the discontent between my daughter and myself?" He watched his sister's face transform from excitement, to confusion, and finally settle upon anger. "Lucy, you are not—"

"How dare you throw a wrench in things?" she shouted. "After all that we have worked for!" Staring down Eli, she narrowed her eyes until they were slits. Eli wondered if she could actually see through them. "Well," Lucy harrumphed, "it is not as though you have really done anything to help, anyway. I have done most of the work. I still wonder why Rivka married you at all. _An-y-way_…" Her nonverbal request for him to explain the situation between him and his daughter echoed in the silence.

Eli hung his head but didn't break eye contact. "She banned two of my best officers from coming to the rest of the Chanukah celebration." Lucy blinked twice, expecting more. "There is nothing else."

"You argued with her…over that?" she groaned. "Idiot! How stupid you are. She is your daughter. She has rights here." Automatically, Lucy's brain went into overdrive as she attempted to formulate a plan to fix the situation. "Okay, so she is not talking to you, yes? Why did she tell Liat and Malachi not to come back?"

Her brother-in-law shrugged. "Malachi punched Tony for flirting with Liat." If possible, Lucy squinted even more than she was before. "Or, as Tony claims, Liat was making unwanted advances and the entire ordeal was misunderstood by a jealous Malachi." He raised an eyebrow and went back to reading his paper. "Have fun trying to fix that."

Lucy said nothing. Eli had no idea that it was like the silence before the storm, for he was taken by complete surprise when she cuffed him upside the head. "Did I already say that you are an idiot? Because you are! A complete fool! How did you not see that this was our perfect opportunity? Liat was trying to steal Tony away. That would have ruined our entire plan, so now that she is out of the picture, we can make our move." She counted in her head. "We have three nights of Chanukah left. You will talk to Ziva and resolve things. I will talk to Tony." Without bidding him farewell, Lucy stood and walked out the pocket door.

Waiting in the hallway, she grinned when she heard Eli dialing the phone. "Ziva," Eli murmured, "I think we should talk. Please meet me in my study when you return home. Thank you." And then he hung up.

The plan was falling into place…

* * *

**The Davíd House, Kitchen  
****1800 Hours  
****Monday, December 6, 2010**

"Is it against the rules for you to open my present before the candles are blessed?" Tony asked, offering his gift in an outstretched arm. The corners of Ziva's mouth turned up, and he returned her smile.

She unwrapped the small box and could immediately smell the light, spicy—but summery—scent. Ziva thought she caught a hint of Jasmine, as well as the citrus and gardenia. It was deep, marine blue, set in a square, glass votive with a baby blue ribbon. At the ends of the ribbon was a silver charm and a sapphire Swarovski crystal, and the front of the votive held a metal circle engraved with the Star of David. It was beautiful and would be so pretty in her apartment. She looked up at her partner and gave him a small smile. "My gift to you seems so stupid now; but thank you."

Tony refused to believe that Ziva was right, because all of her gifts thus far had been amazing. He peeled the wrapping paper from a deep blue box and then uncapped it. Pulling aside the tissue, he lifted a beautiful, ice blue tie from within it. He took in a breath as he looked at the writing that covered every inch of the tie; the fabric held the signatures of all of the Founding Fathers, and given Tony's immense sense of patriotism at times, Ziva had thought the tie resembled him quite well. As well as matching his eyes beautifully. "Wow…No, Ziva, this is a _great_ tie!" he said thickly. "Thank you so much, Zeev."

They hugged and everything felt right. Ziva decided that she would talk to Tony over candlelight that evening before they went to bed—now that Tony had his own room, she was going to push him to use it instead of sleeping in _her_ bed—and tell him everything. Tony likewise decided to wear the tie to the following evening's party.

If there was going to be one, because tonight hardly anyone was there. Lucy had approached him and told him that tonight would be a more relaxed evening without a party, per se. He couldn't deny the fact that the silence was welcome; spending time with just Ziva, Nina, and Eliana was his idea of a perfect evening. The blessing of the candles went smoothly and streamlined right into a beautifully prepared dinner, as always.

"So, Tony," Eli said before biting into a bruschetta, "What did Ziva get you tonight?"

The younger man looked down at the box he had set on the floor for safe keeping and reached down to grasp it. "She got me an awesome tie. All of America's Founding Fathers' signatures, right here. Fantastic."

The Mossad Director nodded. "And what did you get her?"

Tony wiped his mouth and then answered, "A Chanukah candle."

Jumping up and down, Eliana cheered, "Men-nor-uh!"

"Nah, sweetie, just a candle," he answered, winking at the girl. "It smells great. I usually hate the smell of candles." Tony took a bite of broccoli kugel. It was delicious, as was all food he'd had that week. "Although, I must say, nothing beats the smell of that tsimmes kugel you've got baking in there, Nina." He cast a sly smile at Ziva, since she had done the majority of the work. He knew what that smile did to her and loved every minute of it.

Eliana frowned. "I like tzim-mis kooo-gull." Nina smiled at her and smoothed a hand over her daughter's hair. "Hey! I'm a princess!" The little girl lifted a hand to her head to make sure the tiara was still firmly in place. "To-nee?"

"Yeah, pumpkin?"

"Do you want Ziva's kugel?" Eli, Ziva, and Tony all managed to choke on their broccoli. "_Sahvta _Lucy said you would want her kugel by nine. What's nine?"

Nina leaned in to whisper in her daughter's ear, "_Sahvta_ Lucy was saying that the kugel would be ready at nine and that Tony would like it. Remember?"

"No."

Her mother shrugged and glanced at Lucy, who just smiled knowingly.

The timer went off on the stove and Ziva jumped up to get it. Tony rose, too, under the pretense of getting another bottle of beer for Eli and himself, and met her by the oven. Standing closer than he should, he leant down to say, "You tell me, Ziva. Do I want your kugel?" He winked again and Ziva just blushed and hurriedly carried the steaming tsimmes kugel to the table while Tony retrieved the beers.

Perhaps he didn't need another, but he knew it would just make him less nervous. He needed something to take the edge off, and nothing was better for that than the Hefe-Wit or India Pale Ale he'd found in the refrigerator.

"So, tell us, Tony; what are your plans for the holidays once you return to the United States?" Eli asked once the younger man had given the former his beer and sat down. "Christmas and the New Year, yes?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah; I'll probably do my traditional _It's A Wonderful Life _viewing at my house, and make myself some dinner, and maybe call my dad and wish him a Merry Christmas." He took a sip of his beer and then added, "Nothing can compare to the time I've had here, though. The holiday's coming to a close so I just want to say thank you for opening your home to me."

"You are basically family," Lucy muttered, cutting into the tsimmes kugel and spooning a bit into a small bowl.

Tony pretended not to hear her, but smiled anyway.

Eli nodded. "It is common knowledge that last year, I was not pleased with you for the accident with Officer Rivkin—" Here, he bowed his head in reverence. "—nor for 'taking' my daughter and agent from Israel." Tony just looked down the table at him with what he hoped was a smile on his face. "However, I agree with Lucy. You helped protect me when I was in the United States, and you saved my daughter. Over the past few days you have proven yourself to be a good man."

Ziva snorted, but not at the compliment her father had just given Tony. Rather, the snort was at the fact her father had just _given_ Tony a compliment. After their conversation earlier that evening, Ziva still wanted to go home. While Eli was trying to sugarcoat his words from the day before, she had made up her mind that regardless of how kind he was going to be to her now, she would be friendly but noncommittal. If Ziva had her way, she would never come to this house again. Nina's, she could handle. Aunt Lucy and Uncle Avraham's, sure. But this house would never be 'home' to her again.

It was then that she realized that she had made the right decision in bringing Tony with her. She needed his support and friendship. Actually, she needed someone to hug her and hold her and kiss away her fears. If that 'someone' ended up being Tony, then so be it.

"Thanks, Eli. That means a lot." Tony, too, had long since decided to be cordial and gracious, but not explicit about his true feelings. While Eli's words did mean a lot to him, Tony was also aware that they were just that: words. Chances were that Eli was just giving him lip service and after Chanukah was over, they would go back to not liking each other. And that was fine by Tony. He knew better. He could see the resentment and hurt in Ziva's eyes, and swimming in those chocolate browns was also fear, he wanted to take that away. "It's been great."

Glancing at Ziva, he couldn't help thinking, _But sometimes, I wish I had a family of my own. _He didn't know that Ziva was thinking the same thing.

_

* * *

_

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
****0010 Hours  
****Tuesday, December 7, 2010**

The candle sat forgotten, still lit but its flame not of either Ziva or Tony's concern. They were more focused on their competing fingertips.

"I am going to win," Ziva whispered, nudging his elbow out of the way. "I am going to win—Hah! Touchdown!" Tony groaned and grabbed the dice from her. "Oh, aw, are you…are you sad that I won?" she mocked, patting his cheek. She gasped softly when he covered her hand with his.

"Nope." He stared into her eyes, his a grey-green that Ziva hadn't seen in quite a while. "Zeev, there's…there's something we really need to discuss. And it would probably be a better idea to talk about it now, before we're back in the States and at work and stuff…"

Ziva just looked at him with large, curious eyes. "What is it?" A thought struck her and she was forced to ask. "You aren't sick again, are you?"

"What? No! No, I'm not sick," Tony said through a chuckle. "Well, I guess I sort of am." _Yeah, lovesick, maybe_, he thought.

"Was it the kugel? I am sorry. I did not know if you were allergic to anything, so if it's my fault, I will buy you medicine." She ran a hand through her hair, pressing the scent of her shampoo into the air.

Her partner just watched her, perplexed as to how to continue. "No. I'm not sick. Calm down." He smiled and just ran a hand through his own hair. "Okay, Ziva, I'm sorry, but I don't know how to…Um…tell you."

Ziva nodded, as though understanding. "I…I know. You have a girlfriend back home, right?" Tony's eyes widened. "Did you get back in contact with Brenda Bittner? I knew you had broken it off but…"

"What? No. Really, no." He decided there was only one way to get his message through. "Forgive me." Lacing a hand through the curls on the back of her head, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. She let out a soft moan of shock but didn't stop him, simply opening her mouth for him to caress her tongue with his. Tony lowered her back onto the floor, where they had collapsed after drinking several beers, and shoved the tin box game that they had previously been playing out of the way.

Things only grew from there, and they only stopped when they realized that sleeping together was not the answer to Rule Number Twelve and their question of its reliability.

The partners fell asleep cuddled together on her small, shag-carpet area rug at the end of Ziva's bed.

Tony's sock was missing.

* * *

_A/N: Um. Yeah. Sorry that it didn't…yaknow…go into full-blown lovemaking. After all, this __**is**__ only rated-T, haha. __**::grins mischievously::**__ So, anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I'm not sure what inspired me to just…pump out an entire chapter in a day, but I did it, and therefore, I hope it was worth the wait from before. What a reward for my other viewers, yeah? __**::smiled::**__ Also, I think I'm in love with the idea of Tony in a wheelchair…Ohdear. Too much __**Dark Angel**__ for me…._

**Translations:  
**_Sababa!_ (Cool!)  
_Shidduch _(Matchmaker.)  
_Doda._ (Aunt.)


	8. Day Seven

_**A/N:**__ Hey…It hasn't been __**too**__ long, right? Because I gave you two chapters last week! I hope you've enjoyed it. Really, I hope you have. It's been quite a rollercoaster lately, and while I love NCIS, I've been watching __**Dark Angel**__ so much that it's like…Logan Cale overload! I may be writing a short blurb about "What if the virus was cured?" so be on the lookout. But, this is about Chanukah, and Tiva, and gifts. So enjoy! _

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own __**Dark Angel**__, __**NCIS**__, __**Harry Potter**__, "I'll Be Home for Christmas", or a leather jumpsuit._

_

* * *

_

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom Floor  
****1000 Hours  
****Tuesday, December 7, 2010**

Her hair smelt of paradise. His skin smelt of the ocean. Together they were a forbidden island, and in their dreams they were on one. Together. No rules, no cases, no problems. Most importantly, no one else except each other. It was as though everything was right in the world.

And then Tony remembered what day it was. "Well, shit," he groaned, rolling over onto his side. He gazed at Ziva's sleeping form, watching her nostrils flare as she took deep, gentle, sleepy breaths. Watching the corners of her mouth upturn softly, as though she were daydreaming about something happy. "In dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own," the senior field agent murmured, quoting the wise Albus Dumbledore. Sighing, he traced Ziva's jaw with his index finger, and then sat up and turned away (in order to hide the tension pressing against the front of his plaid pajama pants.

That had happened three times, including that morning. Ziva thought it was to hide his morning breath. Little did she know that DiNozzos never get morning breath; they are somehow free of the gene that delegates those traits, because he likewise never got body odor or smelly feet. He was simply a clean smelling man (besides the fact he showered every morning) and therefore only used cologne and aftershave to appeal to the ladies.

And that failed the majority of the time.

Tony remembered how offended he'd been when he and Ziva had been trapped inside the cargo carrier that first year of working together and she had accused his money of smelling like armpit. It may very well have, but was not _his_ armpit that caused the stench. Most likely, it had been from some other person at that stupid bachelor's party he'd gone to a few nights prior to being held hostage. Tony figured it was the stripper. Stupid stripper. In fact, he _knew_ it was the stripper's fault. He'd caught a whiff of her, trying to see what kind of perfume she wore, but caught a whole load of b.o. instead.

_Anyway_… He cast a look over his shoulder at Ziva and felt himself warm considerably. And again, the thought of the little velvet box sitting in his dresser drawer hidden in his boxers came back to bite him like a feisty little rat. He fought off a shudder. "Yech, rats…"

Tony heard a soft whimper behind him and looked over his shoulder at Ziva's sleeping form. She had yawned and rolled over without waking up, now lying face up with an arm slung over her abdomen. "Hmm…" she sighed, and he had to swallow his "Good Morning," which would surely have awakened her.

She looked so peaceful, so carefree. It took all of Tony's strength to not go over and kiss her the way she was. But he didn't, and tiptoed into the bathroom to start a shower.

"_I'll be home for Christmas. You can count on me…_" he sang, his voice a little rusty. In his opinion, though, the slight gravelly rub of his voice sounded kind of sexy. He made sure to keep his singing soft as to not wake break Ziva out of sleep. "_Please have snow, and mistletoe…_Oh, yeah," Tony said through a chuckle, and it sounded like a moan, "Mistletoe be _niiiice_…"

"Would it?" an amused voice said in the doorway. He turned around, wrapping a towel around his waist, to see Ziva leaning against the crown-molding. "Oh, come now, a DiNozzo being modest?" She smirked. "Hardly something I would have expected." The towel sat low on his hips and he was afraid of flashing her. While DiNozzos were notorious for their sexual exploits, they were equally known as _gentlemen_. Tony didn't want to risk ruining that image.

He blushed faintly. "So what if I am? And yeah, it would. And why are you in here, again?" Tony coughed and stared at his partner, who shrugged. "Heh…"

"I heard you singing," she told him simply. "I came to investigate."

Tony couldn't help but let his mind go there. '_I'd like to investigate a lot more of you…'_ he thought, and slathered shaving cream on his face.

Ziva watched his every move.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Front Stoop  
****1100 Hours  
****Tuesday, December 7, 2010**

"What do you mean, I am 'not allowed on the premises'?" Liat demanded, her hands on her hips, staring down into Lucy's equally determined face. "Director Davíd called me and invited me back. Let me in!"

The older woman sneered. "Tcht, you have no business under this roof."

"Oh yeah?" the Mossad agent hissed. "Prove it."

"You should respect elders more, Liat." Lucy smiled but it was only halfhearted. "Ziva did not tell you that you are no longer welcome here?

Liat bared her teeth. "I generally do not hit old women, but I would be more than willing to make an exception. Let me in the house _now_." Narrowing her eyes, she thought she saw someone lurking in the shadows of the living room's corners.

Lucy merely shook her head and stepped aside. She wasn't scared of the self-proclaimed 'ninja'. She knew she carried weight with the woman's boss, since she _was_ the boss's brother, after all. Why put herself at risk with a Ziva wannabe when all she had to do was make up a candid story about how incredibly promiscuous the woman was? Which would _not_ be candid, Lucy knew, because she had seen Liat making eyes at Tony all week. It was going to stop.

"Enjoy your time here. It is limited," Lucy said with a smile before walking out the back door. She wanted to talk to Tony and had seen him in the garden…

* * *

**The Davíd House, Gardens  
****1300 Hours  
****Tuesday, December 7, 2010**

"Ah, Special Agent DiNozzo," Malachi said as a snake would: with a hiss, a sneer, and more insincerity than Tony could measure. He looked up from his seat in the whicker lawn chair and bowed his head. "I see that word got around about our discussion two nights ago, yes?"

"Yeah. It did, seeing as everyone at the party saw it, Ben-Gidon." Tony smiled but it fell short.

"Whatever," the Mossad officer snapped. "Just as long as you know to stay away from Liat." The other man shrugged and went back to reading his newspaper. "We _are_ clear, aren't we?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Crystal." A twinkle came to his eyes that Malachi decided he didn't care for. "I don't _want_ Liat, Malachi."

"Oh no?"

The Senior Field Agent slowly folded his newspaper and set it on the table beside his chair. He then stood and squared his shoulders. "No, Ben-Gidon, I don't. Actually, I think she's a bitch." Malachi narrowed his eyes but said nothing. "She treats Ziva like dirt, acts like this is her own home, and then forces herself on me," the former explained, and then smirked. "We've got a word for that kind of woman back in the States, but it's too vulgar to say out loud."

"You have no business talking about Liat like that!" Malachi retorted, growing red in the face. "She is a strong agent who works on her intuition. She knows what she wants and how to get it."

"Well, she's not getting me any time soon, so how about you just stop getting all pissy with me and work on getting _her_?" Tony asked, baring his teeth ever so slightly. He decided that if this were any other pair, such as Gibbs or McGee with Malachi or Director Davíd, he would be cheering his teammates on. For some reason, however, he was unable to count his points now.

Malachi just shook his head, and began to turn away before stating over his shoulders, "You had best watch your back, Special Agent DiNozzo."

Tony smiled, his thoughts distant. "Oh, but I've already got someone to do that for me."

"Who?"

"My partner. I have her back, she has mine. Pretty good combo, if you ask me." Sending a meaningful look in Malachi's direction, he sat down and crossed an ankle over his knee. The other man simply walked back toward the house. Tony was confident that his point had come across loud and clear: He. Did. Not. Want. Liat. He just hoped that Malachi could see that, too.

The young DiNozzo shook his head, wincing when his black eye throbbed. It had healed considerably over the day and a half since he'd gotten it, but he just wanted it gone. What would Vance say when he returned with a black eye? Gibbs would make some sort of dry-humor joke and McGee would giggle. Palmer might talk too freely about what exactly happened—broken capillaries or something—and Ducky would try to get him to put some weird Scottish ointment on it. _No, thank you_, Tony thought, _Just heal, would you, please?_

"Heal faster when more protein is in belly," Lucy muttered, coming up behind him with a cup of tea. "Drink this." She extended the cup toward him and he took it grudgingly. More foul liquid to drink.

He downed it within thirty seconds, and handed the cup back to the old woman sitting next to him. "Thank you."

Lucy shrugged and changed the subject. "You sleep in."

Tony nodded, chuckling. "Yeah, Ziva and I were really tired," he said, and then realized the weight his words carried. "I mean, didn't Ziva sleep in, too?" he murmured, trying to cover up his mistake. He failed.

"Yes. That, you know," Lucy said. "Do not try to trick old women. Does not work." Tony's eyes widened and a soft blush rose in his cheeks. "My English is poor." He assumed this meant that he should excuse any mistakes or the difficult time she would possibly be having in talking to him, and nodded. "I know about Liat."

"You do?"

"Yes. Ziva told her not to come back, but she _is_ back." Lucy arched an eyebrow and leaned in, dropping her voice to say, "I also saw you with Malachi."

"Oh, well, that was…" Tony trailed off. He honestly didn't know what it 'was', but decided he'd at least told him off well enough that he'd have no more problems.

The old woman smiled. "Do not worry about that _tembel_, Tony. Think about Zee-vah." She looked down at the teacup. "You and Zee-vah fit."

That was the second time Tony had heard that in the past year. The first time, he had been eavesdropping on Ziva's conversation with Nora, the lovely woman from France that they'd had to fly back so she could testify in an upcoming court hearing. He had been standing down the aisle from them on the plane, but they hadn't known. He'd heard every word that Nora had said, as well as Ziva's half-baked answers.

He knew that their charge hadn't been convinced. Who would have believed them anyway, with the hand-grazing and the sidelong glances at each other? How unprofessional that tryst had been. They'd shared a bed. They'd shared a room, and the dresser, and even a suitcase (but only because Tony had gotten everyone souvenirs!) and then…_Ha,_ they hadn't slept together, but they hadn't necessarily kept it 'clean', either.

Much like Jenny Shepherd and Leroy Jethro Gibbs' rendezvous in Paris, Tony and Ziva had come to know each other better. Bonding over wine, laughing over pictures of people wearing socks and sandals with shorts in tour guides, eating four star meals…It was fun. That quickly ended when the partners returned to Virginia, much like Gibbs' and Director Shepherd's _tête-à-tête_.

Nothing had ever come of their relationship, Tony had noticed. Yeah, Jen and Gibbs had made it a regularity to flirt almost constantly and whenever the opportunity arose. Sure, they still remembered that night. True, they referenced those hot, Parisian evenings in ways that would only make sense to each other. But they had never gone full-blast. They had never become more than partners. They'd adhered strictly to Gibbs' rule of _Never Date a Coworker_.

Because sometimes, in the heat of a moment, there doesn't have to be a girlfriend-boyfriend situation for two people to have sex. Sometimes, it just happened. Like when Tony and Ziva had been undercover as assassins. Like what had almost happened the previous night.

But what differentiated the late Director of NCIS and Gibbs from Tony and Ziva, the senior field agent knew, was the fact that Jenny hadn't had a chance to make it work with her partner. She hadn't had the chance to make it try. She'd died alone, without kids, without a significant other. She'd died without family.

_Well, shit_, he thought for the second time that day. He knew he was on that same path, and would stay there unless he did something about it.

"Yeah. Yeah, we fit, don't we?" Tony murmured, smiling at Lucy. "Hey, what do you say we go inside and find Ziva. It's about lunchtime, right?" The old woman nodded and rose to follow him.

But they didn't get to eat lunch for another hour yet, because of a fascinating game of hopscotch.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Driveway  
****1400 Hours  
****Tuesday, December 7, 2010**

"Do you remember how it goes, Eliana?" Ziva asked, stooping down with her hands on her thighs, chalk grasped tightly in one fist. "One square, and then two squares…is that correct?" The little girl nodded and then gasped, pointing over Ziva's shoulder. The woman turned and saw Lucy and Tony coming up the path around the house, he with his hands in his pockets. Her partner looked a bit nervous but also happy. _Oh, no, what did Lucy have him talking about this time?_ she thought haphazardly, standing and brushing off her knees. "Tony."

Memories of the previous night ran through her head and she had to let out a deep breath to keep herself from blushing. Or from flinging herself onto him and knocking him to the ground for easier access to his strong throat and chest. She figured that as long as she could refrain for the rest of Chanukah, she would be fine.

"Ziva." A soft smirk graced his features and his tongue darted out to gently brush his upper lip. "Lucy and I were just talking in the garden. I hear Liat's back?"

The former Mossad agent just shrugged and let out a sigh. "Is she? It was only a matter of time before Father went ahead and invited her back." _But at least I did not give in. That is what is most important._

"Yeah." Tony stepped forward and rested a hand on her elbow. "You know who you look like today?"

"No, who?"

Tony's lips formed a rather sexy pout, Ziva noticed, as he grinned. "Jessica Alba. So just pull a _Dark Angel_ and go cosmic on her a—" He realized that they were around the little one and then curbed the rest of his sentence around that fact. "—asteroid." He hoped he hadn't been caught. And besides, who doesn't love a ninja?

"What is an aztroyd?" Eliana asked, drawing a sun on the ground with chalk. "Is it a food?"

Tony shook his head. "Nope. It's a chunk of solid ice." Casting a look at Ziva, he backtracked. "Wait, is that an asteroid or a meteor? I could never keep those straight in high school…I think it's a meteor that's ice."

Lucy patted his shoulder and corrected, "Meteor is flaming space junk. Asteroid is ice."

"Oh." No sooner had Lucy saved the day than she was back in the house, most likely to retrieve tea or some free gelt from the side table in the parlor. Tony could tell she had a sweet tooth. "Gonna have an epic game of hopscotch?" Eliana nodded fervidly. "Traditional? Or the kind little schoolgirls play that has loops and paths?" The two females stared at him as though he was crazy, and he just shrugged. "What? My school must have just been weird."

"Of course it was," Ziva muttered, "You went there."

Tony wrapped an arm around her waist. "Oh, ha-ha, very funny. Need I remind you that I am a senior field agent, Miss Probationary?"

"What does pro-bait-canary mean?" Eliana cooed, tugging on Tony's trouser leg and heartstrings alike. "Is it a bird?"

He couldn't help letting out a chuckle. "No, Munchkin; 'probationary' means that you aren't full yet. It's…um…" He looked to Ziva for help but she just shrugged. "Well, for example, Ziva is a new agent at NCIS, where we work, so she's a Probationary Agent, but I've been there for almost ten years now so I'm a Senior Field Agent."

Eliana stared at him before crinkling her nose and then grabbing Ziva's hand to pull her toward the hopscotch board she had drawn. It was very amateur, but a great effort for a five-year-old. "Let's go!"

The game went smoothly until the little girl tripped over the rock and landed face-down on the pavement. To Tony, it felt like he'd put the scene in slow motion; for Ziva, it felt like fast forward. Either way, they were both at her side within seconds, Eliana cradled in Ziva's arms while Tony tried to erase the tears as she cried.

"Are you okay, Eliana? Where does it hurt?" he asked, holding her tiny hand in his large one. She had skinned knees and an elbow, a small cut on her forehead, and a chalk smear on her nose. Eliana gestured toward her knees but her garbled speech was indistinguishable. Ziva transferred her to Tony's arms before running inside to get BandAids and antibacterial ointment for the cuts. "Shh…" he murmured, kissing the top of her head gently. "You're okay…It's alright. I know, sweetie, it hurts…"

When Ziva returned, Eliana had stopped crying and was instead blinking up at them both with large eyes. All bandaged up, she was ready to play again, but Ziva and Tony were too preoccupied with what had just happened to want to go at it again. Instead, they went inside and watched a bit of television. Eliana fell asleep nestled between them on the couch.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Eli's Study  
****1600 Hours  
****Tuesday, December 7, 2010**

"I will not have her under this roof, Eli," Lucy hissed in Hebrew, slapping the table with her wrinkled hand. "She has done enough damage, don't you think?" Her brother just stared at her, unaffected. "You are a miserable old bastard. She came back _for you_, and you are incessantly rude to her. You treat her like you treated Rivka. And now, you blatantly risk never talking to either of them again."

Eli raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Lucy, you have always known what I am thinking. Right now, however, I am hurt, and I am afraid of losing her. I am doing what I always did. Now, please, stay out of my business."

"Gladly," Lucy spat, standing and walking over to the door. Without looking back at him, she coldly reminded him, "But I am not going to stop in my efforts with Ziva and Tony. I do not give up on the things I believe in." With that, she left and headed for her bedroom. She had decided to write Ziva a letter, explaining everything.

She didn't know that he wept the moment she was gone. Eli knew he was being harsh, and cold. He knew he was in danger of losing his last living child. He knew all of that, but for some reason he could not move past his resentment that Ziva had left in the first place. And that was all he had to hold on to anymore.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****1900 Hours  
****Tuesday, December 7, 2010**

"Really?" Tony asked, moving closer to her to make room for Ziva's very pregnant third cousin (twice removed) to squeeze by. "I mean, tomorrow's the last day of Chanukah…"

Ziva hung her head. "I know, Tony, but I cannot take being here any longer. I just want to go home."

"It doesn't help that I'm here?" he murmured, placing his hand on her elbow. "Hold on. Let me get you some wine, and then we'll go and sit and talk about it." Tony held eye contact with her for several long moments before turning and pacing over to the beverage table. There, he picked up a glass of white wine for Ziva and a beer for himself. When he returned to her, she was sitting on their usual loveseat, clutching a present in her lap, and handed her the glass of wine. She took a long sip from the glass and set the present in his lap. "What's this?" he asked, smiling.

"Open it and see." Ziva returned his smile and took the gift he extracted from inside his dinner jacket. It was a small, velvet bag in deep blue, with rhinestones and ivory pearls randomly dispersed on its exterior. "Gelt?"

Tony laughed. "No! You'll see." He tugged on the bow and then extracted from the wrapping paper a thick book. "'_The Man's Manuel_'…?" His partner gave him an ashamed smile and nodded. "What's it…oh. Well, don't you have a sense of humor tonight!"

"It's not that you are not a man, Tony," Ziva said, placing her hand on his. "It is that you sometimes go about things in the wrong way." He pursed his lips, cocking his head slightly. She knew he wasn't actually angry and continued on, "And then…sometimes, you go about things the right way." She pulled on the drawstring of the blue velvet bag and inverted it, catching fifteen pewter coins in her palm. "What...?"

"Read them," Tony pressed, taking the bag from her. Ziva obliged and dropped them in her lap, netting them with the teal taffeta of her dress. He watched her turn them over in her palm. They were tokens engraved with certain 'favors', in a completely non-sexual way. If he remembered correctly, they were: _'Phone Call', 'Coffee', 'Driving', 'Serious', 'Movie Night', 'Dinner', 'Sleepover', 'Bar', 'Piano', 'Chanukah', 'Christmas', 'Turkey', 'New Years'', 'Singles' Day', and 'Hug'. _These, he hoped, would mold their relationship into something a bit more tangible, so that he would finally be able to know where the boundaries lay between them.

Ziva's facial expressions while she read the engravings changed with each one. Tony gazed at her as she turned them over and over in her palm, and felt the need to explain their meanings, since they were rather vague.

"Okay, so," he began, taking the first one and holding it up before dropping it into the bag, "this one means that whenever you have to talk to me, or talk in general, you can call me." Tony picked up the next one and did the same with it, as he continued to do for the remaining thirteen. "This one's for when you want a pick me up. I'll buy you coffee." Ziva smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but Tony swiftly cut her off. "Now, I know you don't really like coffee much but I figured you'd be able to at least enjoy a tea, or something, and besides…the coffee at the place I get it is amazing. Trust me." She relented and he continued his explanation. "Driving is pretty self-explanatory. You get to drive, but know that it can only be used once a week." Ziva pouted. "Get over it! Anyway, if you hand me the next one, it means you need to have a serious talk. There's no limit on that one." Tony looked at her solemnly and then smiled. "The 'movie night' one is for any night you want to catch a movie, either at my place, yours, or the theatre. And dinner…well, dinner's kind of obvious. You want dinner, just let me know, any time." He smiled at her, hoping she understood thus far.

"What about the 'sleepover' token?" Ziva asked, winking.

Tony shook his head. "No, no, that's if you ever need a place to crash. If your hot water heater blows a gasket again or if you have a rat infestation or something." She nodded, understanding, and he moved on to the next one. "Bar token. If you want to get a drink after work or something. The piano token is actually for me, so that I can relearn how to play piano, but it's putting me in your company so it's up to you." Looking around, he dropped his voice. "All of the holiday tokens are just that. You need company? Just give me a call, and I'll be there. Of course, New Years' is pretty spectacular in itself, so that one's important."

Ziva held up the 'Singles' Day' token and jerked her chin toward it. "What's this one for?"

"Valentines' Day blows if you're alone," Tony said, shrugging. "Just figured that if you wanted company, you could use it."

"And the hug token?" A soft smile played on her lips. "Don't tell me you are turning into Abby."

He shook his head again. "Nah." Now was his chance. "Just in case you needed a hug."

Ziva looked down at the 'hug' token in her palm and then took Tony's hand and pressed the pewter sphere into his. He grinned and enveloped her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. "I do not _need_ a hug," she told him, "but that does not mean I do not _want_ one." Ziva wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head in the crevice of his neck.

"Why do you want to go home?" Tony asked, still embracing her. He could smell her perfume and shampoo and soap, and it smelled wonderful to him. She shrugged and his heart broke. "We leave in two days. Do you think you can last that long?"

Ziva let go of him and sat back, and murmured, "This is why I brought you, Tony. I brought you so that I would not feel so alone with my family."

"Well, you're not alone. You've got me." He swept a loose curl off of her face but left his hand there.

She nodded and told him, "Yes, I know. You are the piece of home that I needed to bring with me here."

"Isn't this your home?"

"No," she said, "my home is Virginia. My home is NCIS. That is where my family is." Softly, she added, "That is where I am loved, and that is where _I_ love." Looking around, Ziva explained, "My father means well, but I always end up getting hurt when I am around him for too long. My _Doda_ Lucy is fun to spend time with, but she always tries to set me up with someone whenever I am here. I rarely get to see Nina and Eliana as it is, and living here would not facilitate that any better. They are my family by blood, Tony, but my real family—the ones I spend everyday with, the ones I feel I belong with—are Gibbs, Abby, McGee, and you." She could smell his aftershave and felt herself becoming lightheaded from the heat and the wine and the food. "And Palmer, of course, but he is the awkward cousin who people avoid…" Ziva and her partner shared a knowing smile before he took her hand in his.

"Zeev, everything _will_ work out. I know it will. It always does," he said comfortingly. "Sucks now, but it serves as a good reminder as to who you care about."

Ziva looked down at _The_ _Man's Manual_, lying on the coffee table where Tony had set it, and let out a chuckle. "You may not need that book after all."

_Because you always know how to make __**me**__ smile…_

* * *

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Closet  
****2359 Hours  
****Tuesday, December 7, 2010**

"This is where I spent most of my childhood, Tony," Ziva said. She pressed the pewter 'Serious' token into Tony's palm and closed his fingers around it. "This was the only place I felt safe. Father could not find me, and I could lose myself for hours, just thinking or reading." She knew she'd told him all of this anyway but still felt it necessary to tell him again in order to explain how she felt. There they sat, Ziva sitting between Tony's legs, with her back pressed against his chest and his chin resting on the top of her head. And they had sat there for two hours already, talking about silly and solemn things alike.

She felt Tony nod. "Yeah. I know what you mean," he said, his voice low. "At our summer home in The Hamptons, there was a spot under the stairs in downstairs hallway, off of the kitchen. I used to spend hours in there, either thinking or listening to Mom's drunken fights with Dad." Ziva hadn't ever heard much about Tony's childhood and let him talk. "Dad never used to start them, but he never ended them, either. Not until they'd gone too far and he'd leave for a few hours. Mom would forget about the fight when she was sober again and they'd make up over dinner, but I'd never forget." She knew he still hadn't forgotten some of the worst fights. Who would have been able to?

"My mother never really ever fought with my father. She did what he said, always what he said, regardless of what she felt." Ziva dropped her head back onto his shoulder and felt his arm slide around her waist. "Perhaps that is why she left us for Ari's father that once. Maybe she was carrying resentment and confusion and needed an outlet." Ziva wanted to believe her mother loved them. She wanted to believe that Rivka had never meant to hurt them. She wanted to believe it all, but for some reason, whenever she voiced this, either to herself or to the two people who had ever known (Michael and Tony), it all sounded hollow, fake.

Tony pressed his lips to her jaw, the only part of her face he could reach in that position, and whispered in her ear, "She did. She loved you. I promise, she loved you."

"Then why did she leave?" And then Ziva felt the tears forming. She knew why Rivka had left. It was for the same reason Ziva wanted to leave. Israel wasn't her home anymore. She didn't feel welcome there. She didn't feel whole. She didn't feel alive. And neither had her mother. Ziva sniffed loudly and Tony's strong hand took hers, and they sat for an hour talking about nothing other than the future.

"Do you want to get married, Tony?" Ziva asked softly. "Do you actually want the kids, the house, the job..." She paused before softly adding, "The responsibility?"

"If I find the right woman." And Ziva hoped that was her. "I want to have two beautiful children. I want a great penthouse condo, with enough room for guests and family alike. And I want to keep my job," Tony laughed. "I love NCIS. I know I have to retire eventually, but if Gibbs is still going strong, dammit, I'm going to stay, too." She remained quiet, envisioning all that Tony had just described. "What about you?"

All Ziva said was, "Yes." Because she wanted the same thing as he did.

And then came the moment that Ziva threw caution to the wind, turned around, and kissed him freely, wholly, and passionately, and didn't care about the outcome. She pressed her mouth to his throat, her hands to his chest, and her hips to his. He captured her lips with his and laced a hand through her hair, pulling her closer to him still. They only stopped when they remembered the rule, and even then, they counted it a victory in their favor that they had even gotten that far.

Ziva thought that maybe it all counted as a hug, too, because she needed it.

* * *

_A/N: This has been a Brown Eyes Only broadcast. Peace. Out. _

_PS: Can someone send me Logan Cale or Michael Weatherly? I mean, I'll pay postage…I just need a contact…Thanks! Love, Kat. I mean. Brown Eyes Only._


	9. Day Eight

_**A/N:**_Well….here it is, folks. The Eighth Day. Remember there's _one_ more chapter after this. Ooh, what shall Day Eight bring? **::bites nails::** Eek. Hope you enjoy it! Love, Brown Eyes Only.

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Thank You" by Dan Zadrah, Mossad, or NCIS. _

_

* * *

_

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
****0800 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 8, 2010**

Ziva trembled as she held up the dress bag and hung it on the back of her door. She had bought this dress almost a year prior, after falling to temptation during a shopping spree with Abby. It had been a form of "therapy", the Gothic girl had said excitedly, adoring the black lace. And now, looking at it, Ziva couldn't help but agree. Tony let out a soft snore from the bed behind her and she hurriedly zipped up the bag to hide it from him.

"Morning," Tony mumbled through sleep, easing himself up onto his elbow and rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Sleep well?" He yawned and collapsed back into the mattress. Ziva laughed and sat down next to him, and he pulled her down to lie beside him. Kissing her shoulder, he murmured, "I guess I missed a token."

"How do you mean?" Ziva asked, nestling into his arms.

Tony yawned again and then situated himself so his head was lying on her abdomen. "Well, I don't think I put 'Kiss' or 'Make-Out' or 'Stay Up All Night Laughing'…" She ran her fingers through his baby-soft hair. "Seems like we've been doing that a lot this week."

She giggled, and then internally admonished herself for doing so. _Ziva Davíd never giggles!_ "Well, Tony, I have something to say about that…"

"Oh yeah?"

Ziva nodded. "You do not need a token for those." Tony leaned over and placed a hand on either side her body to brace himself above her. He eased down on top of her and placed a kiss on her forehead, then her cheeks, and finally her nose. "Tony?"

"Shh…" he whispered, pressing his lips lightly along her jawline. He sucked on her throat, and the crook of her neck, and along her collarbone. He heard her whimper and immediately stopped, looking up at her. "You okay?" he asked huskily, and she nodded, confused. "Oh. I thought something was … wrong." She shook her head and then raised her hand to the side of his face, an unvoiced invitation for him to continue. He did.

She had long since lowered her hand to his hip and was working it under his pajama pants when a small voice from the doorway said, "Ziva?" Eliana. _Shit, shit, shit!_ The two broke apart and Ziva's hand flew to her hair. She knew it was a mess, but deep down, she didn't care. "What are you doing?"

"Um…" The Israeli stared at Tony, who shrugged, neither knowing how much Nina had disclosed about the Birds and the Bees to her daughter. Ziva knew she couldn't very well tell Eliana that it was something 'she was too young to know about', because a little girl would be sure to go to her mother and ask. And that would stir up too many questions from everyone else. And then Tony knew his explanation of 'She lost a contact' would be unheard of, since Ziva didn't wear contacts, nor did a child know what they were. At the same time, they both said that Ziva had something in her eye.

Eliana just nodded and stood there, sucking her thumb. "Did you need something, Princess?" Tony asked, rolling off of Ziva and sitting on the edge of the bed, hoping that he didn't have an embarrassing bulge. Not that Eliana would know what it was, he would still feel ashamed.

"No. _Eima_ just wanted to know where Ziva was."

"Well…" Tony chuckled. "You found her!"

Ziva rolled out from under the covers and wrapped a terrycloth bathrobe around her shoulders. "Let us go find Nina. Have you had breakfast?" Eliana shook her head. "Do you want some toast and jam?"

"Yum!"

Tony's partner cast a sly look back at Tony before leading Eliana from the room. He didn't know what to make of it but decided to get dressed…and then decided against it. _I'll shave, though_, he thought, and gathered his toiletry items and walked into Ziva's bathroom.

About fifteen minutes later, the bedroom door slammed and Tony poked his head out to see what was up. Ziva sat, curled up, on her bed, head buried in her knees, her back shaking from soft sobs. Having finished shaving, he dried his face and walked over to sit next to her. Neither spoke for a while until Tony finally embraced her and murmured, "What's wrong?"

"My own stupidity."

"Pardon?"

Ziva unfolded and flung herself back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling with a face that lacked any emotion whatsoever. "Liat said that she read your cell phone inbox."

Tony furrowed his eyebrows. "Um. Okay? What did she find?"

"She _said_ she had found text messages from Jeanne," Ziva explained, "but I did not believe her."

He nodded and reclined to lie next to her. "Okay, good, because I haven't spoken to Jeanne in at least three and a half years, Zeev."

"Right, that's what I told her." Sighing, she continued, "Then, she started saying that I was 'so promiscuous' and 'a disappointment' and that you would 'become bored with' me." Ziva paused, and Tony thought she was done, until saying, "So I punched her." There was no feeling to her voice.

"Ziva?"

"I know, Tony," she groaned, sitting up. Tony followed suit and wrapped an arm around her waist. "It was a stupid thing to do."

He shook his head. "Actually, Zeev…I think you were right to hit her." Softly, he added, "She was insulting you, and has already made a mess of things. You were only defending your dignity."

"No!" Ziva blurted, "I am just as bad as Malachi. I punched her because I was angry with her for flirting with you. I was angry that she had kissed you. I was simply _angry_. I took my feelings out on her physically, when talking should have worked everything out…" Tony just kissed her cheek and pulled her closer. "How can you touch me? I am a hypocrite and a fighter."

The Senior Field Agent shook his head insistently. "You aren't a hypocrite."

"You're too good to me." Ziva leaned into him.

It only took moments for Tony to have her pinned to the mattress, showing her how good to her he _could_ be.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Kitchen  
****1100 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 8, 2010**

The morning had progressed slowly. Tony had kind of backed off. Not in a cold way, not in an awkward way, but he had been quiet. Contentedly quiet. He realized that the relationship needed to go slowly, but after the fact he'd made love to Ziva that morning, he felt guilty.

Ziva, too, was feeling guilty. She thought that she was using him to make herself feel better. Granted, the sex had been amazing, as she had expected it to be, but under other circumstances, she knew it would have been even better. If they were going to have a relationship, Ziva figured it would be okay to have slept with him, but now, with the return home looming before them, she realized it was unrealistic. She felt awful. The morning was hanging over her like a great cloud.

And then Lucy came in and made it worse. For almost two hours, the old woman talked to them about Jewish law versus what happened in the real world, and how she was concerned about the sounds she had heard from the hallway. Apparently, they had created more noise than they had thought, although the fight to stay quiet made the situation more fun. Ziva was fairly certain she had bitten Tony in an effort to not make any noise. She smirked as Lucy questioned them, remembering the purple smudge. "Sorry, _Doda_ Lucy. I …"

Her aunt shrugged. "You were having sex," the older woman said in complete Hebrew, but Tony caught '_yakhaséy mín_', which after his research, he knew meant 'sex'. He blushed slightly and felt his heart skip a beat, but said nothing, pretending he didn't hear her. After watching Ziva just smile and shake her head noncommittally, he stood and suggested he and Ziva take a walk.

Little did he know that Lucy was secretly cheering the both of them on, and while she wouldn't be reporting _that_ part of their slowly-forming relationship to Eli, she would be sure to let him know they were close.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Garden  
****1300 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 8, 2010**

"Happy Last Day of Chanukah," Tony murmured, leading Ziva down a trail that led to a small botanical garden, with a willow tree shading a bench. He sat down and was able to admit his surprise when Ziva sat closely next to him.

Especially when she said softly, "Tony, about what happened this morning…" _Famous last words, DiNozzo_.

"Yeah?" He smiled although his brain was reeling. Was she going to tell him that it couldn't happen again? That she regretted it? _Shit_, he told himself, _I knew this would happen_. "What about it?" Tony emitted a soft chuckle from his hollow lungs, and he knew Ziva wasn't convinced.

"How long has that been brewing?" she asked, yet again surprising Tony. "How long has that been…a possibility?"

"What, sleeping with each other?" He scratched his temple. "Uh…I don't know, five years?"

She scowled playfully. "We have known each other for five years, Tony. Really, how long have you thought of me that way?" She went on to tell herself, _Because I've seen you differently since that night…_

Why did everything always come back to their undercover assignment Ziva's first year with NCIS? Why was that the basis of their relationship as partners? Why?

"I haven't really ever thought about it," Tony lied. _I think about it everyday…_

Ziva hung her head. "When we go back to Virginia—" she began, but Tony cut her off by placing a gentle finger beneath her chin and tilting her head back to look at him.

"Listen to me, Ziva," he told her, "this—" Tony gestured between them with his free hand. "—isn't going anywhere. We've gotten this far. If you aren't comfortable going against the infamous _Rule Number Twelve_, I understand, but I want you to know that this is real. It's happening." Ziva stared at him in part confusion, part shock. "So, we had sex. We've done that before. We've kissed before. We've done pretty much everything boyfriends and girlfriends do. The only difference between them and us is that we're NCIS agents with a hard-ass boss."

Both worriedly glanced at Tony's cell phone, clipped to his belt, assuming that it would ring with Gibbs angrily asking why he would say something like that. Gibbs knew everything.

"Gibbs must know, though…right?" Ziva muttered. "Gibbs knows everything."

Tony nodded, laughing heartily. "Yeah, Sweetheart, he knows a lot, doesn't he?" He took her dainty hand in his, thinking about how strongly she could handle a gun. "Look, Zeev, if he says there's a problem with us being together, we'll worry about it then. But for now, let's just keep it out of the office, you know?"

Ziva stared at him knowingly. "Like when you were with Jeanne?" she whispered thickly, remembering how elusive he had been those months, when she had been so scared for him, thinking he was ill.

He bowed his head and looked at her. "Just like when I was with Jeanne. Only this time, I'm not just dating you to off your dad," he joked, but his eyes were pouring hurt from their sea-green depths.

"Okay," she agreed. "You shaved your butt." The suddenness of her comment shocked both of them.

Tony stared at her with wide eyes. "Um, no, actually, I didn't. Because I never had a hairy ass to begin with." Both he and Ziva burst into laughter and finally he sobered enough to mention that she had come up with that as an excuse to give him a three out of five in the Good Butts Contest he'd had with McGee.

"But then I said that you could gain two points if you shaved!" his partner insisted, shoving his chest playfully. "So technically, you had a five."

"I've always had a five!" Tony argued, drawing her closer. "You just never wanted to believe me." He dropped his voice and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Do you still want to go home?"

Ziva shook her head. "I think I will be fine now."

_Because I'm not so alone…_

_

* * *

_

**The Davíd House, Guest Room  
****1300 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 8, 2010**

The bedroom overlooked the garden, and from the angle of the window, one could see down through the weeping branches of the willow tree in the botanical garden. And one was not pleased with what she saw.

"Malachi," she snapped, and her partner rushed to her side obediently. "Why did you punch Tony?"

He rolled his eyes. "For the eleventh time, Liat, because he was saying degrading things about Ziva. You had too much to drink that night. DiNozzo was double-crossing both of you." Raking a hand through his hair, he mumbled, "I was defending your honor."

"Oh." Liat turned back to the window, narrowing her eyes and staring down on the couple. "This time, Malachi, do not defend me. I can take care of myself, _and_ this situation." With that, she swept from the room and down the hall to Eli's study. "Director Davíd?" she murmured, knocking twice on the door. "May I talk to you?"

"Certainly, Liat," Eli welcomed her, gesturing toward a chair across the desk from him. "Sit, sit. What is on your mind?"

And Liat proceeded to carry out her plan. One way or another, she was going to get Tony, even if it meant lying to her boss. So she told him horrible things about Ziva, about what Ziva had told her and how she had threatened her safety.

But surprisingly, Eli didn't believe her and told her to get out of his office.

Sometimes, it doesn't pay to lie, but Liat was _pissed_.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Ziva's Bedroom  
****1500 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 8, 2010**

The velvet box called to him from its place, buried under boxers and undershirts, and Tony felt his stomach churning. Sleeping with Ziva was enough of a commitment, but this? Was he ready for that? The possible events played out in his head as he tried to nap on the chaise lounge.

_Piano music drifted over from the piano, candlelight dancing on Tony's cufflinks and in Ziva's eyes. She looked fantastic (as did he, she thought) and held gift in her hands. After giving it to Tony, she took the box from him._

_Before she opened it, Tony led her to the couch and braced her with an arm behind her back. "Ziva, you've been a part of my life for quite a while and I just…well, you often want a reminder of your heritage, so I thought that we could combine the two and brand them into one object altogether…" She cracked open the velvet box and fumbled with the difficult hinge. Splaying it open completely, she took in a sharp breath and stared down at it. After a few moments, she sniffled and then raised a hand to his face and kissed him softly._

"_Thank you," she said._

Tony shook his head. No, there could be other possible turns of events. She could open the box and hate it. She could open the box, love it, and then run away because she was scared of the commitment at hand—even if technically there wasn't one—and never talk to him again.

He couldn't risk that.

"Come on, DiNozzo," he said, standing and puffing his chest out in the mirror. "You know how to work this out. You gave Jeanne a nice gift. You gave Brenda your body. You gave Ethel her Halloween Fantasy." Tony groaned and went to the closet. There he hid for another hour before climbing out, selecting a nicer suit to wear, and hanging it on the hook in the bathroom. "You got this."

He was briefly reminded of the moments in the locker rooms at Ohio State before the Final Four tournament. The cheerleaders had brought them water and cupcakes for after the game, as well as a brief hookup to relieve tension. Tony had abstained and they had lost. Not because of him, of course, but the team had told him that in his other 'endeavors', he needed to jump in completely or nothing would ever work out for him. Although at the time, the point guard had been referring to hooking up with cheerleaders for the sake of the team, Tony could relate the situation to giving Ziva her final gift that night. If he didn't just jump in, he'd never get anything he wanted. Sex was one thing, but he actually cared for her, and he needed to show her. Soon.

Meanwhile…

* * *

**The Davíd House, Kitchen  
****1500 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 8, 2010**

"I am sorry for hitting you this morning, Liat," Ziva said through a sigh, setting a mug of tea in front of the other woman apologetically. "I should not have resorted to such physical means of taking out my frustration." Liat simply looked up at her through thickened eyelashes and fluttered them at her. "I do care about Tony, and I felt caged and upset that you were using that against me."

The other woman raised an eyebrow and shrugged, moving her attention to the tea. "What does Jeanne have to do with any of this?"

Ziva knew she shouldn't tell Liat anything that could be used against Tony someday, so kept her answer short and to the point. "She is an ex-girlfriend that Tony really missed at one point."

"And this affects you how?"

The Former-Mossad agent looked at her replacement incredulously. "Liat, he is my partner. I do not like to see him hurting."

Liat nodded. "I hear you two slept together this morning."

"What is this, Jerry Springer?" Ziva demanded. "That is none of your business. All I came here to do was apologize to you but if you insist on bringing my relationship with Tony into the conversation, I will leave." She turned to leave but Liat grabbed her arm. "What."

"Your _relationship_ with Tony?" she repeated. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Ziva knew she had her caught. "Just as it sounds." And with that, she shook her arm free of an awestruck Liat and flounced from the room. _I win!_

She was caught off guard when she heard a defeated sigh come from behind her. She turned to face whoever it was and saw Liat standing in the doorway of the kitchen. At Ziva's confused stare, the woman sagged her shoulders and said, "I give up."

"Pardon?" Inside, Ziva cheered.

"I give up. You get Tony. You win."

Ziva couldn't help but feel a little bit bad. She supposed that it was the product of many years as an NCIS agent, and—after all—Somalia had changed her. As Gibbs had said before, she left part of her out in the desert. She wasn't the same Ziva that had been in Mossad; no, this was NCIS-Ziva, and NCIS-Ziva felt bad. "Liat…" The other woman turned and sulked back into the kitchen. "Hey, wait!" Ziva followed her and sat on the stool next to the one Liat chose to sit on. "Liat, you realize that even though Tony is not interested, you already _have_ a man who is crazy about you, yes?"

Liat shook her head. "What? No I don't…"

Ziva gestured toward the doorway, assuming that Malachi was upstairs. "Malachi?"

The Israeli stared at her. "No, Ziva, not…really? No, he can't…"

"That is how it was for Tony and myself for quite a while. But then…" Ziva remembered that time in the observation room with Tony and her words to console him. _And that is why…we love you._ "Then, things happened, and here we are." Liat perked up. "Just talk to him. He has been fighting for you this entire time."

Liat blinked. "He has?"

"Yes!" Ziva shoved her playfully. "That is why he punched Tony. Malachi thought he was trying to 'steal you' from him." The Mossad agent watched Ziva carefully. "So just try it out. See where it gets you."

"_Rav todot_, Ziva," Liat said, and went back to sipping her tea. Ziva felt fairly certain that she would have no more run-ins with the other woman _or_ Malachi, now that things were cleared up and boundaries had been set.

The only thing that frustrated her was the fact that it had been so easy.

* * *

**The Davíd House, Upstairs Hallway  
****1600 Hours  
****Wednesday, December 8, 2010**

"Um…" Ziva mumbled, cracking open her bathroom door. "Do you need the bathroom? Because I am only just starting my hair and the party is starting soon, so—" Wordlessly, Tony got up, retrieved his clothing and toiletries, and left her bedroom. She hoped that meant he wouldn't be back within the next hour. She wanted to surprise him with her dress.

Lifting the curling iron, she sprayed a section of her hair and twisted it around the barrel, being careful to not drop it and burn herself. The last time she had curled her hair, the curling iron had fallen and burnt a patch on her neck, so she'd had to walk around with scarves for a week to cover it. Tony had teased her about it, questioning her personal life. She remembered the hickey she had given him just that morning and smiled, almost dropping the iron but catching it just in time.

When she had finished her hair, she spritzed it with unscented hairspray and a bit of perfume with shaky hands. Ziva's stomach was in knots. If he found the note tonight, she was afraid he would be too serious, but if he found it later on, she wasn't sure if she could take the suspense. Either way, in her eyes, she was afraid of losing. She'd one twice already that day. Bad things happen in threes. She was unsure of the outcome now.

After applying just enough makeup to make her skin glow, eyes stand out, and lips look rather kissable, she crept into the bedroom and changed into the dress. Staring into the mirror, she remembered why she had bought it; it was pencil-cut, with a form-fitting body and gorgeous, black lace overlay. The neckline plunged just enough to make it sexy but still innocent, and it made her curves stand out in a way that was flattering. The dress itself was unlike any other cocktail dress she had seen lately, which knew would make her stand out.

Ziva initially had wanted to bring a red or green dress for the final night, but had chosen this one out of her conservativeness. She didn't want Tony to find her hot, but instead beautiful. She was confident it would turn out that way tonight.

She slipped on a pair of strappy black heels and looped a diamond tennis bracelet around her wrist, a gift from her father earlier that week. It was a "goodbye" present to him; she probably would never wear it again because the only part of the week she wanted to remember was her time spent with Tony. All that had transpired between Eli and Ziva would not necessarily be forgotten, per se, but she would at least try.

She took one last look in the mirror and thought she looked alright, so she grabbed her gift for Tony, left the bedroom and hurried downstairs to hide.

He looked _so_ good when he walked down the stairs that she softly gasped. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top, giving her a good view of the dip at the base of his neck. Over it he wore a dark sport-coat and dress pants of the same color. She didn't bother looking at his shoes; they didn't matter.

Since everyone was in attendance, Ziva lit the candles, blessed them, and then invited everyone to eat. She never broke eye contact with Tony, who was openly looking her up and down. They sat across from each other during 'dinner', Eli having decided to set up several large tables so that his guests would be able to sit and eat at a table rather than standing or eating on the couch. They kept touching feet under the table and each time it happened, they would smirk at each other. Neither noticed Malachi and Liat sitting closely at another table.

Finally, dinner was over, and with two glasses of wine in their systems, Tony and Ziva could relax and give each other their gifts. She went first.

As he unwrapped the gift, he smiled. "You've given me a lot of reading material this week," he murmured, brushing her arm with his hand. "Thanks, Zeev." The cover was a simple white with green and black script reading _Thank You_. Under that line was, _In Appreciation of You and All That You Do._ On each page, there was a sentiment or quote that expressed gratitude. Ziva's favorite was,

"_What we do today, right now, will have an accumulated effect on all of our tomorrows."  
__Alexandra Stoddard_

She blushed and hoped that he wouldn't find the note she had written him until at least later. Her eyebrows pulled together when he pulled out a blue, velvet box. "What is this…?" Tony just smiled and held it out to her. When she did open it, she took in a sharp breath. Laying on a silk cushion was a diamond encrusted Star of David.

"Turn it over," he requested softly, no more than a whisper. She did so and saw that engraved on it was _ahava _(the Hebrew word for love) and _love_, as well as the Arabic, Greek, Chinese, French, and Italian translations. At the bottom of the star she saw _Ziva_ inscribed, and that used up the rest of her resolve. She looked up at him and stared, her eyes prickling with unshed tears. "Do you like it?" Tony asked with a small, nervous smile.

She nodded, not trusting her voice. He took the box back from her, plucked the necklace from its ribbon and opened the clasp. After gesturing for her to turn around, he draped the chain around her neck and clasped it shut. Her hand lifted to run her finger over it. "Tony, thank you…" Ziva swallowed her tears and just looked up at him.

"I noticed your old one was getting kind of worn out," he said, taking her hand. "That's alright for work, I guess, but I thought you needed a new one to wear with dressier stuff." She just stared. "So you like it?" Ziva nodded and pressed a kiss into his lips. He let out a muffled "I'm glad" before pulling back. "It looks beautiful on you. Although, of course, you just make it shine…" She slapped him jokingly and straightened her dress.

Eliana walked over to them and let out a squeal of excitement. "Pretty necklace!" she exclaimed, pointing to the Star. "Who gave that to you?"

"Tony did," Ziva told her, smiling.

"Are you going to be his life?"

Ziva furrowed her eyebrows and Tony saved her by whispering, "She means 'wife'."

"Oh. Um…" She glanced at her partner and then shrugged. "I do not know, Eliana."

"He looks at your eyes and buys you pretty necklaces. You should be his life," the little girl insisted. "Get married now!"

Tony hesitated before chuckling. "Who can argue with such an adorable little girl?" Eliana stared at him expectantly. "Okay, okay."

"Stand up!" Lucy watched from the far side of the room as Eliana bellowed, "Everyone, there is a wedding. Sh!" The room fell silent and watched. She led Tony and Ziva to the middle of the room and pushed them to face each other. Both blushed, and Tony bit his lip apologetically. "Okay, Tony, do you promise to love Ziva forever?"

He took a moment before answering. "Yes. Forever and ever," he said, winking at his partner.

"Good. Ziva, do you promise to love Tony forever?"

Ziva, smiled and squeezed his hand. "I do, indeed."

"Good. You are married now and Ziva is Tony's life, and Tony is Ziva's life." Nina bent down and corrected her gently. "I mean, husband." When no one said anything else, Eliana jumped up and down, chanting, "Now kiss, kiss, kiss!"

Tony leant in, pressed his lips to Ziva's, and placed a hand on the small of her back, dipping her. "And that's how one gets married over Chanukah." He kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around his neck. No one worried about what they were going to tell Gibbs on their return. All they knew was that Chanukah was the Festival of Lights, when the Judeans proved their dedication to their people.

And Tony and Ziva finally realized that they were dedicated to each other.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Honestly, I'm not sure what the qualifications of a 'rated-M' story are. I have read all the terms and stuff but it's not like they give examples! Therefore, I apologize if this wasn't smutty enough…But finally, y'know? Jeez…Needs to happen in the show now. __**One more chapter!**__ Yay! Love, Brown Eyes Only. Peace. Out._

Translations!  
_Chava. (Love.)  
__Rav todot. (Thank you very much.)  
__Yakhaséy mín_. (_Have sex.)_


	10. Home

_**A/N: **__Well…here we are. The end. Enjoy…Brown Eyes Only._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Hadag Nachash. Also, I do not own the concept of a boat in a bottle. Personally, they really irk me because it makes me remember how frustrating it is to try to figure out how Gibbs gets those boats out of his basement. Grr. I equally do not own Rule Number Twelve, because who would want to own something that prevents Tiva? The only thing I __**do**__ own is the concept of this fiction, Eliana, and all of the other characters that you don't recognize! (Coffee and Steubens included.)_

* * *

**The Davíd House, Parlor  
****0330 Hours  
****Thursday, December 9, 2010**

Ziva and Tony stood by the door, surrounded by Eli, Lucy, Eliana, and Nina. Hugs and kisses went around numerous times and Eliana didn't fail to remind them of their responsibilities to each other now that they were married. Tony promised that in everything, he would stay true to Ziva, even though secretly he was laughing at the fact he had been 'married' by a five-year-old. To his partner. In spite of Rule Number Twelve.

"Tony, I know you have to go," Nina murmured, gently taking his elbow and breaking him out of his thoughts, "but I need to ask you something in private for a moment." Tony furrowed his eyebrows but followed her all the same to the kitchen, leaving Ziva and the rest of the family in the parlor to wait. When they arrived at the great marble countertop, Nina looked nervous and he felt bad for her. Finally, she blurted, "I have told Eli that my daughter is not going to be involved with the Mossad…" It was almost as though a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders, because Tony could see that she was relieved. "You are the only one I have told other than him, but my mother would agree with me anyway."

He was reminded by her piercing stare that it was due to Adam's murder and nodded in understanding. "What did Director Davíd say?" Nina snorted and Tony figured that he hadn't been too pleased. "Didn't like it too much, did he?"

"Oh, he will put on a nice show now, Tony," the woman snapped, "but after you and Ziva leave, he will try to convince me to let her join." Sighing, she regained her composure. "I know that he feels her instincts and advanced intuition will make her a valuable officer, but I cannot risk losing my daughter, as well. _Doda_ Rivka left … we have not heard from her, so she is just as good as dead. And if Ziva left forever…" She let out an angry huff. "I will not risk ending up like him. I love my daughter too much for that."

"That's what makes you a good mom, Nina. It's been a great time getting to know you and your precious daughter, and I've learned a lot about being a good parent." Tony dropped his voice. "I learned that from _you_, so feel proud that you and Eliana could teach a restless soul like _me_ how to settle down and take responsibility." The last sentence was a joke but there was still a hint of truth behind his words. "Besides, I've made a few friends in Israel now. Who knows, I may be back. And when I do come back, Eliana had better not be a Mossad Officer. I've dealt with enough of those the past five years," he added, laughing.

Nina shrugged. "I try to be a good mother, and as much as I want Eliana to be happy and proud of her country, I honestly just want to get her _out_ of it. If Lebanon launches an attack…" She shook her head as if forcing thoughts to pour out of her ears. "I want to keep her safe."

"If Lebanon launches an attack—_if_ they do—you know where you can send her, Nina," Tony offered, taking Nina's hand. "Ziva loves that girl as her own daughter and I'm getting to the point where I'm comfortable around her. She's welcome in the States, I'll tell you that much."

"It means a lot for you to say that, Tony," she said, her tone hushed. "I hope that the reason I send her to you someday will not be because of violence here, but because of a friendly visit, in which case I will hopefully accompany her." Eli called for them to hurry up, and Nina hugged Tony tightly. "Be safe, Tony. _Shalom_." As Tony started for the kitchen door, she demanded with a chuckle, "And take care of my cousin! If you hurt her, I will be coming to the States to make sure you fix it!"

Tony smiled warmly, realizing, _Hey! I kind of have a girlfriend again!_ And he was okay with that. "Alright, Nina. I won't mess around."

"Messing _around_ is fine," Nina murmured with a wink. "Just do not mess things _up_." He winked back and gave her a lopsided grin before leaving the kitchen.

* * *

**Tel Aviv Yafo Airport  
****0530 Hours  
****Thursday, December 9, 2010**

"Thanks for the coffee," Tony murmured, snaking an arm around Ziva's back as they waited in the queue to board the plane. "You didn't have to buy me something…I've got an airport card."

Ziva arched an eyebrow. "Part of the Mile High Club, eh?" she joked, and leaned into his body. "After someone gave me such a beautiful gift last night, I was feeling extra generous." She toyed with the diamond Star of David that still hung around her neck. "I do not think there is any way that I can repay you…"

He smiled at her and said, "Yeah, there is. Just be you."

Finally, Ziva and Tony made it onto the plane and into their seats. Eli had tried to win Ziva over by upgrading their tickets to first class, and although it was a nice surprise when they checked in, she was still wary of any of his attempts. She had seen what his 'kindness' had done for her before and wasn't willing to be misled again. By anyone.

Therefore, when a beautiful Indian woman sat beside Tony and drew him into an in-depth conversation, Ziva grew angry with herself for believing for even a moment that her partner had changed the slightest bit. She pressed herself into the window and focused on her music, while watching the clouds go by.

Finally the Indian woman fell asleep, her ear-plugs firmly in place and a sleep-mask covering her eyes, and Tony turned to Ziva for entertainment. For a while, she ignored him and blared Hadag Nahash into her ears, but she eventually was forced to talk to him, albeit in clipped sentences.

After an hour or so, he'd had enough of her attitude. "Hey, Ziva, what's wrong?" he asked, trying to take her hand. Before he could touch her, she moved her hands to wind the headphones around her iPod, swiftly avoiding contact with him.

Ziva stared out the window and casually said, "Why don't you ask your new Indian friend."

Hurt, Tony said nothing more and instead plugged into his television screen on the back of the seat in front of his. How it had come to this after a week of building up to the best day of his life, he had no idea, but he wasn't about to push it. When she was ready to talk to him, she would.

He knew it was about Rati, the woman who had been assigned the seat next to him, but he couldn't quite tell why that had upset Ziva. He hadn't flirted with Rati at all, and was just being friendly. Besides, the woman couldn't speak a word of English, so the basis of their conversation was what little Tony had learned from _Jaadugar_, which he hadn't seen since it had come out on DVD in 1989 so he was rather fuzzy. He'd been laughing, talking to Rati, but only because he had felt so stupid. The language barrier was tough.

So why was Ziva so upset? There had been nothing going on. Hell, he had married the woman the previous night! Granted, it hadn't been for real, but…He rested his head on Ziva's shoulder, hoping that perhaps she would let him leave it there.

She did.

* * *

**Frankfurt Airport  
****0805 Hours  
****Thursday, December 9, 2010**

"So, Zeev," Tony murmured, handing Ziva her carry-on as they stepped out of the tunnel into the airport. "I think we need to talk."

Ziva was still displeased with him and just stared blankly into his eyes. "What about?"

He shifted weight uncomfortably to his other foot. "Why you're mad at me."

She sighed and shook her head. "I am not mad." After a brief pause, she added, "I am confused and hurt and I think we should just wait until we get home to talk about this."

"Why?"

Why? There were many reasons as to why she didn't want to talk about it. For one, they were in the middle of a German airport, surrounded by tourists and natives alike, and Ziva didn't want to make a scene. Secondly, she had no desire to look petty or desperate. They weren't together and she knew that once they got back to Washington D.C., she would have much explaining to do anyway. It would be much easier to pretend that there was nothing romantic going on between them if there really wasn't anything going on between them. In her mind, it would just work out better that way. Thirdly, she still partly felt as though she had used him as a means of forgetting her hurt and frustration over Eli, Liat, and Malachi. And fourth…She was simply pissed.

"Give me space, Tony." There was a hint of warning to her voice and he quickly shut up, although his eyes bled confusion. "Thank you." Ziva ordered a tea from a small kiosk and bought him another coffee. She was angry but not so much so that she wasn't able to be polite. "So, what are your plans for Christmas and New Year, again?"

Her partner furrowed his eyebrows, glanced at her necklace, and then stared into her eyes. "I don't have any," he told her, before sipping his coffee. "Abby might be having a Testosterone Party, I guess. She texted me but I don't know if I'm going. Other than that, I'm laying low."

"A Testosterone Party?" Ziva asked, arching an eyebrow?"

"Yeah. New York City, the Ball Drop...Ring in the new year?" She shook her head, none of it sounding familiar to her. "When a kid hits puberty his—"

Ziva held up a hand. "Can you explain it without being graphic?"

"No."

She sighed. "Fine. Proceed."

"Anyway, guys go through a bunch of changes and one of them is similar to the 'ball-dropping' of N.Y.C. So Abby's calling it a 'Testosterone Party' to make a play on words." Tony watched her face but was unable to find anything. He had hoped it would make her laugh, or at least smile, but he had failed.

Ziva simply shook her head. "I don't think I will be going either. It sounds a bit risqué for me." Tony looked at her and then moved a bit away from her. She watched him, wanting to say something but then chickening out.

"Look, Ziva; I don't know what I did wrong, and I don't know why you're upset, but I won't know either of those unless you talk to me," he finally stated firmly. "I want to know, and I want to learn, and I want to prove to you that I didn't mean to piss you off, but you've gotta help me with that, or it can't happen." He took out a magazine and started reading. Ziva assumed it was a Maxim or Playboy magazine but after inconspicuously glancing at the cover, she saw it was an Readers'Digest. The front revealed that it held a section for women _and_ men to know what the other was thinking, as well as a plan for settling down. She felt bad but decided that since she didn't know how to fix it…she would let it run its course.

Just like the plane they stepped onto at one o'clock.

* * *

**Airplane  
****1430 Hours  
****Thursday, December 9, 2010**

Ziva slept curled into her seat, Tony's arm around her shoulders and her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. Then the turbulence set in and she began to feel nauseous and scared, so instead of sleeping, she gripped Tony's hand tighter than she ever had.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," Tony murmured, flexing his fingers to try to regain circulation in them. Ziva just held on tighter and he finally had to let go altogether. "Ziva! We have an hour left, alright? If you can handle the flight to a carrier out on the ocean, you can handle this." It was true, she realized. This was nothing in comparison to their flight two years ago to go visit Tony on the _Seahawk_.

She nodded and then lowered her head onto his shoulder again. "I was upset with you because of the woman sitting next to you," she whispered, and then pressed her lips together.

"Oh, Rati?" Tony asked, and Ziva again bobbed her head. "Did you listen to any of our conversation?" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her as she shook her head 'no'. "You, my dear, are one of the very few Middle Eastern ladies that I have the pleasure of being able to talk to. Rati doesn't fall into that category, whatever way you cut it."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say … I don't know what she said, nor what I said, and I honestly think our conversation was about the fact the sky is green and fish live in trees," Tony explained, snickering. "But I may be wrong. I could have said that the trees are green and pink elephants live in the tropics. I honestly have no idea."

Ziva fell asleep shortly after, her confusion resolved and the situation controlled.

* * *

**Dulles International Airport, Washington D.C.  
****1130 Hours  
****Thursday, December 9, 2010**

"Oh my God!" Abby squealed, running at her coworkers at full force. "I thought I'd never see you again! Never take a vacation again, not that's eight days long, anyways! Well, no, I guess you can, because you deserve to, but oh my _God_, I'm so happy to see you!" She enveloped Tony in a hug first, and then Ziva, and then grabbed both of their hands and dragged them toward baggage claim. "McGee came with me to pick you guys up and Gibbs sends his best, but we're actually working a case right now so I have to be fast about getting back so that Major Mass Spec can tell me who we're lookin' at. But I wanted to give you your Chanukah gifts in person, Ziva, so I demanded to come and get you."

Dumbfounded by her monologue, Tony and Ziva followed Abby and then were joined by McGee, who had collected Tony and Ziva's suitcases and dress bags. "Hey, Ziva, Tony," Tim said with a smile, sticking out his hand. "Are you going home to rest up? Or are you coming back to Headquarters with us?"

Tony shook his hand and shrugged. "I'll go where I'm needed. I'm used to jetlag so I think I'm ready to go back to work." He sighed. What he really needed was a good night's sleep, but if his team needed him, he was prepared to help. "Brief me on the case on our way back, okay?"

"I, too, will do whatever is necessary," Ziva decided. "Did Gibbs say whether he wanted us there tonight or not?" Abby and McGee exchanged glances and the Israeli woman could tell that meant 'yes'. "Well, then, I suppose we do not have a choice anyway." She smiled but on the inside she just wanted to collapse in her bed and sleep for days.

Tony stepped forward to grab his suitcase and 'accidentally' bumped Ziva's hand. Neither minded much, but she blushed a bit regardless.

"Ziva! Did your dad give you that necklace?" Abby suddenly asked, and Ziva's hand flew to the pendant. "It's gorgeous."

"No," Ziva murmured. "He gave me other things, like books and a menorah."

"Then who gave you that?" Abby gently touched the pendant and turned it over, reading the inscription. "Wow, someone who must really love you! Look at all of these inscriptions…"

Ziva felt herself flush more and shook her head. "He told me not to tell." Tony tensed beside her. "I will ask him if it is okay." Abby stared at her in confusion and then shrugged. Ziva simply vowed to tell her later in private.

On the way to the car, McGee, too, noticed a gift. "Are those new cufflinks?" Tony nodded. "You get them in Israel?"

"Kind of. They were a gift."

"Oh yeah? From who?"

Tony pursed his lips and then said, "Can't say. Made me promise not to tell." Ziva glanced at him and then averted her eyes just as quickly. Changing the subject, he said, "So, what's the scoop on the case?" As they got in the car, they split up in the normal fashion; McGee driving, Abby in the front seat, and Tony and Ziva in the back.

As McGee filled them in, Ziva fell asleep with her head on Tony's leg. He didn't bother telling McGee about why it happened; he could tell both he and Abby already knew.

* * *

**Headquarters  
****0001 Hours  
****Friday, December 10, 2010**

"Hey, Boss," Tony murmured, walking directly to his desk and taking out his badge and gun and setting them on the top. He also set his carry-on bag down and pulled out the Mustang paperweight and address book.

"Duh-Nozzo," Gibbs replied, setting down the receiver of his phone. "How was Tel Aviv?"

The younger agent smiled and placed a small box on his boss' desk. "Better this time, since I wasn't under investigation for murder."

"You got me a gift." Gibbs shot him a look that clearly said, 'You didn't have to get me anything…'

"Oh, it's not a present," Tony said quickly, "it's your next project!" He watched his leader unwrap it and pull out a small bottle with a boat in it. "Thought maybe you could figure out how they do that, and then start on those. Easier to get out of your basement, probably…" At Gibbs' stare he shut up and retreated to his desk. "McGee filled us in on the case, Boss. Sounds pretty complicated."

Gibbs nodded. "We've had this guy under surveillance for at least a week and we've still got nothing. Abby's been killing herself over the DNA samples and Ducky's autopsy didn't give us a lead on what direction to go." Tony didn't say anything but knew his team was stumped. "Good thing you and Ziva are back, though. Steubens and Coffee weren't helping."

"Well, it's good to be back," Tony said with a grin, reclining in his rollie-chair. "McGee said there was an ex-wife. Has anyone found her yet?" Gibbs shook his head. "I'll call around first thing in the morning. Well, I mean, later. Right after I—"

"Go home and sleep? Yeah, good thinking. Be here by nine." With that dismissal, Tony nodded and left the building, nearly running into Ziva on the way to his car.

"Hey," he murmured, rubbing his hands together to fight off the cold. Part of him wished someone had given him mittens for Chanukah.

Ziva bowed her head and shivered. "I should explain something."

"Beg pardon?"

"I was not sure whether it was okay for McGee and Abby to know that you had given me the necklace. That being said, we never decided whether we would be talking freely about Chanukah or if we were just going to pretend like it didn't happen. I feel as though that is a discussion we should be having soon," she blurted, getting everything off her chest. "Oh, and you are allowed to tell McGee I gave you the cufflinks."

Taken aback, Tony ran a hand through his hair, deciding that not only did he need a haircut, but he wished it was Ziva's hand. "Abs can know about the necklace, too." After biting his cheek, he added, "And I don't want to forget Chanukah. Any of it."

"You don't."

"Nope." Tony and Ziva stood there staring at each other for a while before smiling and wishing each other good night. He walked to his car before walking back into the building after Ziva, who was just leaving. "You need a lift? I picked up from your apartment last week," Tony offered, extending his hand. "Besides, your luggage is already in my car." Ziva hesitated and then finally agreed, following him to his parking spot and getting into the passenger side seat.

Tony had been going to get the door for her but stopped short when he saw she had already sat down. "Am I not allowed to be a gentleman now that we're back in D.C.?" he asked, sending her a goofy grin that he correlated with lack of sleep and jetlag. Ziva shook her head and stared out the window, her arms crossed over her chest protectively. Tony turned the heat on full blast and set up her seat-warmer for her. "You cold?"

"A little."

"Do you hate me or something now?" Tony asked abruptly, stopping at a red light. "Because ever since we got off the plane you've seemed really uncomfortable around me and I just want to know why."

"Tony, not now."

He turned to look at her for a moment before the light turned green. "No, Ziva, we need to figure this out if it's going to work."

"Do you want it to work?"

"Yes, I want it to work!" He stopped at another stoplight and again turned to face her. "Do you think I'd've gotten you something like that if I didn't? Do you think I'd've gone with you if I didn't care about you at all? What do you think I feel, Ziva?" The light again turned green and he started driving again. "Why wouldn't I want it to work?"

Ziva sighed. "Tony, I was thinking…"

"Uh-oh, that's never good," he groaned.

"…and I think that it would be best if we focused on work right now."

"'Right now'? When _won't_ we be working for NCIS?" Tony asked persistently. "You think we're just going to magically not be working for NCIS and then all of this'll just work out on its own?" He was reminded of Jeanne's last letter to him. "Look, I've been told in the past that I have to choose between love and my job." Ziva sucked in a breath. "You know what? I choose you. So even if you don't _want_ a relationship, you're still going to be stuck with me, because I'm not just going to leave."

"So you are going to stalk me."

Tony shook his head, his nose flaring slightly. "No, Zeev, I'm going to be whatever you need me to be."

* * *

**Tony's Apartment  
****0300 Hours  
****Friday, December 10, 2010**

He couldn't sleep. He knew that in six hours, he needed to be at work, and while he was exhausted, his conversation with Ziva in the car had bothered him so much that he still couldn't calm his mind. So he sat and read through the books that she had given him for Chanukah, starting with _The Man's Manual_. Half of the stuff between the covers defined what Tony _used_ to be, not what he was now. Since Jeanne, he had really grown up. He didn't want the 'sex' bull-crap that the book prescribed. He wanted a life…no, he wanted a _wife_, he told his inner-Eliana, and then smiled reminiscently about the little girl.

Tony grabbed _Thank You_ and held it in his hands. So, she thanked him for all he did for her and then told him she basically wanted nothing to do with him. Letting out a chuckle, he thought, _Just my mother-effing luck, huh, DiNozzo?_ Flipping through its pages, Tony dropped the book as a piece of cream stationary fell from inside them. He bent down and picked it up to inspect it. It didn't take him long to figure out what it was.

_Dear Tony…_

_There is much to say, but little room to say it. And there is also the problem of **how** to say it, and that is what worries me. Not that I will fail to say the "right" thing, but the possibility that you will interpret it the wrong way. But you are also intelligent, so I suppose I can just write down exactly how I feel and leave it up to you to perceive it the right way._

_There are never enough ways to thank someone; a 'thank you' never seems sufficient. I know we do not talk about the "event", if you will, in Somalia, nor have I brought it up recently. Neither have you, for which I am grateful. _

_I do not wish to talk about it on most occasions, nor do I care to right now, however, I have something to say._

_Tony, when I said I was ready to die, I was. Anything to protect my team, and my family. Anything to work for the cause I was sent there to promote: Justice. No, I did not want you to come and save me; but that was only because the thought of you getting killed for something I got myself into was too painful for me. Yet, you fought to save me. And you did._

_When I asked you to come to Israel with me, you put work on hold and hopped on a plane halfway across the world to spend eight days with a family you had never met. You have no idea what that means to me. My father could have held a grudge for what happened to Michael. My family could have hated you. But you crossed the threshold into the house and equally into my family's hearts. _

_When I was upset, you held me. When I was happy, you laughed with me. When I was angry, you fought for me. _

_My 'family' is truly in America. I love Nina, and I love my aunt, and I love Eliana more than anyone could imagine, but my real family is comprised of those I work with. Ducky is my favorite uncle. Abby is my little sister. McGee is my brother. Gibbs is my father and above all of that, you are the man who walks into a party and steals my heart every single day. You steal it, fix it, and then replace it within hours of being around me. _

_You were not a knight in shining armor just back in Somalia; no, Tony, you are **always** my knight, and always will be._

_Thank you._

_Love, Ziva._

Tony didn't know what to do, so he decided to handle it in a few days when everything had smoothed over, the case had been solved, and life more or less had gone back to normal.

* * *

**Ziva's Apartment  
****0500 Hours  
****Friday, December 10, 2010**

She had gotten two hours of sleep that night, but even with only one-hundred-and-twenty minutes of rest under her belt she already felt better, and could think clearer. So much clearer, in fact, that she had almost called Tony to apologize for putting him through all that she had. Right before dialing the last digit of his phone number, however, she had slammed the phone down and hidden it under the pillow on her couch, decidedly getting up to make herself some tea.

* * *

**Headquarters  
****1100 Hours  
****Monday, December 13, 2010**

The case was closed more quickly than the NCIS team had predicted, what with having had no idea where the ex-wife was or who the murderer had been. Finally, they had figured it all out with the help of Tony and Ziva's fresh eyes on the case and had successfully arrested the suspect. Without that hanging over his head, Tony was able to think more about how to approach Ziva.

He looked in his address book. There under _Davíd_ was Nina's name, address, and telephone number. Tony had assumed she would have had Adam's last name, but supposed that since she was a widow, she might have reverted to her maiden name. He still wasn't aware of the familial lineage there so quickly dropped it and looked instead for Ziva. There, plain as day, was her address, phone number, and other information. And there, in the corner, was 'addsomal445909', which he still had yet to decipher. _It is something you have wanted for a very long time_, Ziva had told him that night. "What could it be?" he groaned, writing it down on a piece of paper.

After working on it for a few hours, he had only figured out the first half. A.D.D. were his initials, and 'somal' obviously meant 'Somalia'. But the numbers he couldn't figure out. Maybe '09' was the year, which would make sense because that was the year she had been taken hostage. They found her in September, which could be represented by the other nine. She was in Somalia for four months and three days, or more. It all came back to Somalia.

But why would she write that in an address book…?

* * *

**Headquarters, Abby's Lab  
****1400 Hours  
****Monday, December 13, 2010**

"Hello, Abby," Ziva greeted the Goth girl. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes," Abby murmured, carefully setting down a thermometer and then turning her music off. Ziva was briefly reminded of when she had returned to NCIS after Tony, McGee, and Gibbs had saved her from Som— "_What did you say to Tony?_" Abby shouted, throwing her arms out. "He's been moping for three days, and it all somehow comes back to _you_." The other woman stared silently at her. "Well, I don't know _how_ it does, but it just does, okay? What did you fight about?"

Ziva sighed. "I do not know, Abby."

"Where did you really get the necklace, then, huh?"

She pressed her eyes shut. "Tony."

"See? I knew it! But, that also means there was a reason for it, and dammit, you're treating him like crap! He's _Tony_! You know, the one with a heart of gold and enough good looks to whet the appetite of a thousand women or more? Yeah, him." Abby stopped short of Ziva and put a hand on either of the other woman's shoulders. "But he chose _you_. There's something to be said for that, Ziva."

Ziva nodded, her mind made up. She had to talk to him. She had to fix things.

When she returned to the bullpen, Tony was on the phone, so she walked back down the hallway to get herself a cup of tea. And then when she sat down at her desk, he was nowhere to be found. She frowned. Better luck next time, she thought.

* * *

**Ziva's Apartment  
****2100 Hours  
****Monday, December 13, 2010**

The doorbell rang and Ziva pressed the button of the intercom, hoping it was the delivery man with her Thai dinner. "Who is it?"

"Uh…Tony. Hey, you have an intercom, too? Nifty." His voice sounded gravelly, as though he had spent his entire life smoking cigars, and she grew a bit concerned.

"I will be right down to let you in." She gathered her bathrobe around her and grabbed the key to her apartment before slipping on her slippers and going down to the first floor. When she saw him, she couldn't help but smile. "You brought me dinner."

Tony nodded. "I, uh, intercepted the kid who was delivering it. He left in a hurry. Probably wanted to score something more than a tip," he teased, causing Ziva to laugh. "I ordered some for myself, too. Thought we could maybe have dinner together." She had thought perhaps he'd miss the big parties that Chanukah brought.

"Sure." Ziva led him upstairs to her apartment and unlocked the door. After uncorking a bottle of apricot wine, she sat and gestured for him to do the same as she poured two glasses of the burnt-orange liquid. Taking a shaky breath, she began, "Tony, about the other night…"

"Forget about it," Tony murmured. "You were tired and confused. I understand. But I came over for a different reason…" Ziva cocked her head. "I found your note, and I wanted to say 'you're welcome'." She flushed crimson and took a sip of wine. "No, no, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. At least, not for you. I should be, because it's nothing to say 'you're welcome' for. You're my partner and at the time, you were my closest friend. I felt the need to protect you. Still do."

Ziva looked around awkwardly before whispering, "Thanks."

Tony ignored it and kept going. "And then, I figured out what 'addsomal445909' meant." She snapped her brown eyes to his green ones. "Something I've wanted for a long time, eh? And what could that have _possibly_ been?" he joked. "Your e-mail password."

She looked rather bashful for a moment and then said, "Yes."

"And why did you give me your e-mail password?"

"Because I trust you." Before Tony could say any more, she launched into a great explanation about why she had been afraid of having a relationship with him, and why she had acted the way she had in the car. By the end of it, she was holding his hand with both of her own, leaning halfway across the table, staring at him imploringly. She ended her speech with, "And I love you."

"I love you, too, Zeev," Tony whispered, covering her hands with his free one.

And they spent all night talking, remembering, and joking, just as if nothing had happened at all.

* * *

_**A/N**__: It has been a nutty ride, huh? I mean, first they were in D.C., and then they were in Israel for nine days, and then they were back in D.C., and somewhere in there they had slept together, and then they broke up, and then they got back together and … well, here we are, just as the producers of NCIS leave us hanging every single week. Sorry about that. I hope you've all enjoyed it, and I'm so happy that you've stuck with it that long. I treasure each of my readers and thank all of you so much for all of your fantastic reviews! Look for any of my future pieces; they're bound to come along soon! Love, Kathryn._


End file.
